Dead Roses
by The Jasper Raven
Summary: [NoctLight] A deal with a black goddess sends Cocoon's greatest hero through the canals of time on a cryptic mission. With only a vague prophecy to guide her, and the aid of a mysterious prince, Lightning struggles to survive in a frost-covered future, where both her life and her heart are on the line.
1. The Time Has Come

**A/N: **This is the longshot I had in mind during the publication of "A Little Something Like Shakespeare." That oneshot was just a scene I imagined would appear in this epic story (or what I hope to be epic). With all the commotion over XIII-2 in the air, I figured now was as good a time as any to release this. I hope you enjoy this brief prologue.

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><p><em>I ~ The Time Has Come<em>

"You've changed."

She was knee deep in waterless, midnight waves, greedily lapping at her skin. The only thing she had felt in the spaceless void was a sense of ancient sagacity, faintly emanating from an unknown force. She had waded through the whispery darkness for a stretch of time she couldn't identify in search of that force. It could have been minutes, it could have been centuries. Time ceased to exist here.

The sudden emergence of the voice didn't stop her pursuit. Azure eyes like roaring oceans remained ahead, propelling herself always forward. Her lithe fingers brushed against the eager blade bumping against her knees, not fooled by what could be false comfort.

"You're scared?"

She stopped, fingers twitching, drawing to her weapon like magnets. She cast her gaze around, even though she knew she'd find nothing. Instinct was an insatiable master though, paranoid about triple-checking every surrounding no matter how depthless and vast.

"Scared of someone too frightened to show themselves?" she taunted into the smoky black pocket of lost time.

"You have changed. Your journey has rewarded you well."

The shadows at her feet brushed past her more urgently now, as if being dragged away by a vacuum of wind she could not feel. Her hand clasped the hilt of her blade, unfolding from its carrier like a falcon released from its leash. Her battle-thirsty fingers were quenched with the smooth steel set free. The darkness was thinning, draining from around her into shades of gray until she was finally engulfed in white. The gunblade glided through the new, pearly envelope, settling in both hands as she held it above her, like a scorpion's tail preparing to strike.

"You came to help me," the tranquil sound intoned, a wisp of hopefulness underlying.

"I came to help my friends," she snapped, searching for a face to go with the feminine sound.

The soft radiation of the force she'd been tailing had been drained away with the rest of the darkness. All that was left was the nameless voice. She cursed this new presence for cutting her hunt short and switched gears. She had a new prey to smoke out. For a while, everything was silent and she slowly turned in a circle with the graceful sharpness of a ballet dancer. There was no one else around her.

She stood still, frozen in attack mode, her fine-tuned senses open wide in search of what she was treating as her new opponent. The air was tasteless as she breathed through barely parted lips. There was no scent, no sound, nothing to see, and nothing to feel. The pure emptiness, being devoid of all sensation, was enough to drive a person mad. She kept her wits though; she preferred no feelings – there was less to distract her.

"I have a proposition for you."

She spun on her heel, the gunblade gliding down and following her body until she was facing the other way. It cut through nothing. A short hiss of irritation accompanied her as she straightened, her eyes moving around as quickly as her namesake. It had been directly behind her. She had felt breath on her neck as the words came to life. She detested games. Her patience was worn to disrepair.

"Help me," the voice said, coming from everywhere again. "In return, I'll reward you with those whom you care for most."

"Maybe I'd be more inclined to consider that if I knew who was offering."

Coming as far as she had, she was willing to treat even the slightest sliver of hope as an option. The sooner she could find an answer the better. Regardless, she couldn't be completely reckless. She didn't trust what she couldn't see and she especially wasn't going to make deals with something she was well aware was much more powerful than herself – not that she was about to admit it.

The whiteness stirred, strangely shifting in a way she couldn't describe. Goosebumps peppered her arms and a ticklish sensation tweaked her stomach. Then, she held on tighter to her weapon, a careful wariness spreading over her as she fixed her gaze on the woman who'd appeared before her. Long, raven folds of hair feathered around her face and down her back. Her skin was ivory white but, her lips were tinted blue. She was barefoot and dressed in a gown so white it nearly blended into the hoary void.

Eyes like sun-drowned oceans met a gaze as black and motionless as death. She was a beautiful corpse, unnerving in her pallor but, entrancing in her shape.

"I am Etro," she said, her voice in her eyes, not her mouth. "Will you help me?"

She knew the name well: Etro, the goddess of death. Many times had she prayed to her when her parents had gone to her arms. She knew of her legend, of her benevolence, of her strength. Ever so slightly did her muscles unclench and her thoughts grow less tense.

"Why do you need my help?"

"Your journey has changed you. You've learned of love and friendship. You found hope and learned to never let it go. Your determination and devotion to your friendships brought you here. All of these qualities are what is required for this mission."

She weighed the offer again. The goddess of death couldn't have been her more ideal choice of salvation for her friends. However, she was no stranger to a god's craving for trickery and manipulation. To make a deal with Etro was to make a deal with the devil.

"If I help you, you swear to save my friends?"

The goddess raised a frail hand to her breast and her forefinger drew an X shape over her heart. A golden glow wreathed the shape she'd drawn and then, she extended her hand towards the woman who had not come for her. Said woman smirked, humorlessly, at the goddess's gesture.

_Cross your heart, huh? How cute._

She eyed the hand, delicately suspended in porcelain elegance. Daringly, she stepped towards it, then, looked back at the lifeless eyes.

"What is the goal of this mission?"

Etro's blue lips rose in a knowing smile and before the woman accepted her hand, she emitted a silver glow that steadily grew brighter until she was blinded by it. Then, blackness exploded around her and she was slowly, effortlessly, falling upward. Her fighting spirit was shocked into senselessness from the abrupt change. She didn't have the strength to fight her ascent. The goddess's presence – which had grown suddenly familiar – came weaving around her, whispering over her skin.

"Find and destroy my demise. Only deceit stands in your way. Save me from damnation and I promise, I will reward you with those whom you care for most."

The weightless, gravity defiance broke as the goddess let her go, leaving her rushing up into a soft gray portal. Her eyes closed and she fell to the unknown with nothing to aid her but her will to fight on and a black goddess's promise.

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><p><strong>AN II: **I hope you all enjoyed my little teaser of an opening. Thanks to everyone who reviewed "A Little Something Like Shakespeare," urging me to upload this longshot. I'm looking forward _immensely_ to working on this. I love this pairing and I love, love, LOVE writing Lightning. My best fanfics have been through her voice.

A quick warning before I leave you to (hopefully) review: I'm infamous for my long waits between updates. My Naruto fans can attest to that. The next chapter is well on its way but, between writing that, my other longshot, and my own novel, I can't guarantee the date of the next chapter. I'm setting myself a goal not to take agonizing amounts of time to write so, I hope I won't let anyone down!

Please review and critique! Whatever advice you think you can give me, lay it on me. I'd prefer some constructive criticism. I look forward to reading your responses.


	2. Somnus

**- Dead Roses -  
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><p><em>II ~ Somnus<em>

The delicate feathering of snowflakes on her skin was the first thing she felt. Even without seeing it, she recognized the smooth sigh of winter air in her lungs and the deceptively sweet whisper of snow-speckled wind in her hair. She knew the sharp scent, so much more distinct for a woman who grew up where winter shied away to let summer reign.

Blue eyes opened to a black and white world, faceted in silver accents. The moon shone above her, framed by tall, imposing, midnight towers. Its light caught in the silently falling flakes, giving them a ghostly phosphorescence. Slumber shrugged itself from her limbs and feeling returned from where it had been lost in that passage of vacant time. She cast her focus first on herself, motionlessly searching for any wounds from her fall. She found none and slowly raised herself off the frozen ground. She stood in the snow, a rose rising in winter.

Lightning took in her surroundings. Absently brushing melting snow from her clothes, she scanned the area. She was in a narrow alley open to empty, gray sidewalks at either end. Skyscrapers peered down at her but, she noted with rising suspicion that she heard no one that might inhabit them. The low breeze whistled around her in hollow space. She was the only one here…Wherever "here" was. After evaluating that she was alone and therefore safe, Lightning raised her gaze to the sky. It was black, as dark as the goddess's hair, and sprinkled with blinking stars that could be mistaken as falling snowflakes.

She remembered falling up and she remembered her orders. She couldn't, however, recall a clear objective. "Find and destroy my demise," she said. It was hypocritical of her to wish for specificity – she who was always changing tactics and ignoring details. She had no plan, not even a vague framework for one. Without a goal, how could she move? Rather immaturely, Lightning cursed Etro, snorting in irritation as she took her first steps in this new world. She wouldn't get anywhere anyway if she didn't know where she was.

Wary of the eerily uncharacteristic silence for the cityscape, Lightning slithered against the wall of the alley, conscious of her faithful gunblade at her knees. An empty city wasn't comforting. The hollow breeze moaned through the streets like a ghost. As she peered out into those streets, the ambiance became even more phantasmal. As she suspected, not a soul dwelt on the sidewalks. The street was wide and marked for vehicles but, no such thing could be found. Instead, the road was bare and dusted with the light snowfall. Lampposts loomed, flickering or dead, over the black asphalt, twisting light and shadows about in a haunting dance.

Lightning cautiously abandoned the alley and stepped into the dim road, watchful eyes picking out anything that may be of importance. She walked forward, her boots crunching lightly against the pale film on the road. Regardless of the harmlessness that the vacancy seemed to emit, Lightning couldn't help but feel threatened by the silence. Her thoughts continued to dwell on the fact that she was in an _empty city._ These buildings were built _for_ someone _by_ someone. So, _where were they_?

She glanced inside darkened windows of shops and apartments as she passed, just to find them stripped as bare as the road. The cleared shelves and counters of convenience stores were ominously skeletal, and the naked floors where tables and chairs were supposed to be in restaurants or cafes was equally as haunting. Once or twice she slowed down, squinting through the gloom for any collections of dust. She found none. If anyone had been here, it mustn't have been long ago.

"What have you gotten me into?" she murmured, with Etro in mind.

As expected, she got no answer. She was on her own.

After a few more minutes of peering into buildings titled as book stores, food stores, electronics stores, she found herself wading through less commercial waters, instead entering a corporate jungle. The obsidian skyscrapers loomed menacingly above her. The hundreds of windows, lined like scales on a wyvern, were black as well. No life. She paused in her trek to test one of the building's vast sets of glass doors. They didn't budge. She crossed the street to yank at another set. Locked up tight.

Sighing in frustration, the soldier turned back to the road, crossing her arms over her chest like she often did when she was thinking hard. This had definitely been a densely populated city but, something had driven its citizens away. It hadn't been a rushed departure though. The people had plenty of time to pack up their things before they left. _Why_ had they left though? And what did this have to do with her mission from the goddess?

As she pondered over her questions, Lightning's gaze continued to rove her surroundings. She was pulled from her thoughts when they fell upon something of interest. She hastened back across the street and down the sidewalk, weaving her way around the abandoned buildings until her view was unobstructed, standing just beneath the words that had caught her attention. Plastered along the side of one of the buildings was a bold, white title: ARCHYLTE ENERGY SCIENCE OFFICES.

"Archylte…"

Her brows knit together in confusion. She remembered that name from her trials as a l'Cie. She and the others had spent a long time, honing their skills in the _Archylte Steppe_…on Gran Pulse.

Lightning was snapped out of her churning thoughts when the approaching echo of heavy footsteps and clanking armor shattered the silence. She whirled into battle mode, her palm around the hilt of her gunblade as two men came swerving around the corner.

"…we're on our way," one was saying. "No! _Do not_ go in there until you're sure he's…"

The other jerked to a stop when he spotted her, hitting his friend on the arm before raising his gun. The one that had been talking quickly ended his conversation – that must have been on a hidden microphone to another location – before drawing his gun on her as well.

"You there! Don't move!"

"Take your hands off your weapon, now!"

Their faces were hidden beneath metal helmets. The style of the armor was like nothing she'd seen before. It looked ancient and archaic, although faintly reminiscent of the PSICOM uniform. This city just kept getting stranger. Slowly, she raised her hand away from the gunblade but, didn't loosen from her attack position. One of the soldiers inched closer, never lowering his weapon. He nodded at her shoulder where her single piece of armor, lit with yellow stripes, had identified her as a soldier back on Cocoon. He looked back at his comrade and they both tensed up, more alert.

"Who do you report to?" he asked, voice echoing inside his helm.

Her cerulean eyes narrowed, planning her actions and contemplating their consequences. If she was in a war zone – as if the appearance of armed soldiers suggested anything less – it may be in her best interest not to display hostility. However, she didn't know what condition their fight was in. If she let them take her, how did she guarantee she could get away if she needed to? Fighting would be no problem but, she was lost in this strange world. Where would she go? Her silence stoked the tension in the soldiers and their grips on the guns tightened.

"Soldier," the one said again. "Answer me. Who is your commanding officer?"

She could see where this was going and she didn't have time for it. Even if this was what Etro willed, Lightning refused to get trapped in the clutches of war. She sized them up one last time and weighed her outcomes. Anything was better than getting made a prisoner of war, she thought. Her mind made up, Lightning lunged and attacked. In a panic, they fired but, their bullets hit empty air. In a whirlwind of red and white, she weaved between the two men and her trained fists found the chinks in their armor at the base of the neck. They were knocked out instantly, clattering to the ground.

Her nose wrinkled as she looked down at them. That wasn't very impressive. Static came from the helmet of one of them, accompanied by some fractured sentences. She knelt down and carefully moved his head. She couldn't see the speaker but, turning the man's head a certain way helped her hear what was being said more clearly.

"Sir!" called a young sounding voice. "Are you alright? Lieutenant, we need orders! We have a visual on Target 1. I repeat: We have a visual on Target 1. Do we engage? Lieutenant, respond! Please, sir, we don't have time to wait!"

Lightning returned to her feet and drew her gunblade. She had a feeling she would need it.

Her instincts proved correct when she heard a flurry of approaching footsteps and shouts. Not wanting to entangle herself any deeper in whatever fight was going on, Lightning made the split second decision to flee her incriminating position. Running away grated on her pride but, she couldn't argue that it was her most logical course of action. She darted into the nearest alley but, not quickly enough to avoid the arriving soldiers glimpsing the end of the red banner streaming from her shoulder as she turned the corner.

She swore to herself when she heard their shouts directed after her and they didn't hesitate to come stampeding into the alley in pursuit. When she made no effort to submit to their commands, they started firing. A hail of bullets bounced off the ground at her heels and rocketed past her ears, leaving deafening echoes in the narrow space. As the next corner neared, Lightning twisted around and fired back.

One man went down and the tight formation broke slightly, stalling their chase just a second long enough for her to steal around a few more corners. The alleyways became more intricate and confusing the denser the amount of skyscrapers became. She could use that to her advantage and easily lose her pursuers in the concrete maze. However, that was at the risk of losing herself as well. She had to choose the lesser of two evils, she told herself, the frigid winter air swelling in her lungs and piercing through her skin as she ran.

Her eyes stung against needle sharp snowflakes but, continued to catch every twist and turn of the alleys. She whipped around corners and swerved into every narrow space she spotted. Her lean frame could fit within the tiny openings much more smoothly than the men and their clanking armor. The strategy appeared to be working, since the metallic jingling and hollow voices slowly began to fade. She kept going, only slowing down enough so her lungs stopped howling in agony.

The air was getting colder and the snowflakes were casually multiplying. The rational part of her mind that concerned itself with her health absently reminded her that, in her current state of attire, she was bound to get pneumonia. Escaping the soldiers would be in vain if she dropped dead from sickness. She had to find someplace warm before the light sprinkle of snow progressed into a full-blown blizzard. The "mission" was already starting to dissipate in importance as the need for survival began pumping through Lightning's veins.

Her silent flight eventually brought her to the end of the labyrinth but, to the beginning of a new obstacle. She exited the alleys and came face to face with a tall, chain-link fence. She quickly whirled around and trained her gunblade once on each alley opening. No enemies were coming for her. Feeling secure enough, Lightning sheathed her weapon and hooked her fingers into the diamond-shaped openings. She made quick work of the fence, scaling up with practiced ease. Blatantly ignoring the "Do Not Enter" and "No Trespassing" signs, she hauled herself into the restricted area and darted towards the low, black buildings ahead for cover.

Her body began shivering each time a snowflake hit bare skin and she struggled to ignore all the warnings her nerves were sending her about the cold. She was aware of the danger but, worrying about it would do nothing.

The buildings in this closed off area were much stranger than the ones she'd seen in the city. They were long, low, and single-storied with arched roofs and Gothic spires. They had no windows and their doors were as massive as they were ornate. There was a row of about five of them and overseeing them all was a tall temple, whose architecture matched the others' rooftops. She headed for it, figuring a structure that big was bound to have some sort of hole she could crawl through to get inside.

She hurried past the suspicious buildings, boots slapping the slick cobblestones that neatly tiled the ground. A light slope fell away from the backs of the buildings, leading down to a small courtyard at the foot of the temple. She halted and groaned inwardly. Within the courtyard stood a hundred silent soldiers, dressed in the same armor as the men who had been chasing her. Hurriedly, she drew her blade, even though all their backs were turned to her and their guns were trained on the temple. She pressed back into the shadows, noting the irrepressible tension threading through the area.

She glanced up the broad staircase of the temple where the collective focus was fixed upon. At her distance, it was difficult to make out details but, she managed to see a lone figure at the very top of the stairs, as dark and calmly still as the pillars that held the roof of the temple skyward. She could examine little else before her numb ears drew her focus upon one of the soldiers nearest her. He was touching the side of his helmet and issuing orders.

"…Lieutenant down. I repeat, Lieutenant down. Switching to emergency command. On my order, take out Target 1. Repeat: on my order, take out Target 1."

Lightning's eyes narrowed, suddenly curious. All these men were going to fire on a single individual? (She had already concluded that "Target 1" was the person on the stairs). As a soldier herself, this idea came off as completely preposterous. Why was so much force necessary? What was going on in this bizarre place?

A shout came from her right and she instantly whipped around to face it. She had been spotted. Three men broke away from their positions and rushed at her. At the same moment she raised her blade in defense, someone cried, "Fire!"

Hers was one of the first shots fired. Gunfire rippled up to the frontline until every man in the vicinity was pulling a trigger. Sound exploded in her skull and the frenzied hurricane of bullets flashed painfully at the edges of her vision. Her eyes strained to make out her own opponents. They had managed to dodge her first shots and missed firing back, miserably. Wanting to get out of their sights quickly, Lightning lunged forward, taking the offensive.

The blade of her weapon struck into the side of one soldier and she felt it sink through flesh before swiping out again. He fell and another tried to slam her head with his gun. Just in time, her blade caught the heavy blow, the impact rattling the bones in her arms. Her leg struck out and pounded into his abdomen. It stunned him long enough for her to slice at his neck. She spun around before he hit the ground and found the third soldier ready to shoot. Not hesitating, her blade folded back to open the barrel and she shot him in the head. She didn't know if it killed him or not, just that he went down.

The aggressive movement sent white-hot adrenaline through her blood, thawing away the frosty fatigue in her muscles. She was ready to fight and already scolding herself for running away in the first place. Blade at the ready, she took stock of the situation. The howls of dying men joined the symphony of bullets, as a swift, black blur brushed through the battalion. Thin, crystal flakes danced with the falling snow and a transparent, gleaming wall followed the obsidian swipes of movement. Swords flashed about the battlefield like violent phantoms, appearing to be wielded by the entity tearing through the soldiers, then shattering into crystal dust to be replaced by a different weapon.

The scene was like nothing Lightning had ever witnessed before. The levitating and teleporting crystalline fragments enveloping the shadowy outline of a man whose quick termination of each soldier stirred envy within herself, defied imagination. She couldn't help but be in awe of it, taking a moment to note absent-mindedly that the whole phenomena before her was actually quite beautiful. Although he was moving so fast even her acute gaze couldn't keep up with him, she was positive the figure demolishing the ranks of soldiers was a man; the person on the staircase; this "Target 1" as the soldiers referred to him. Watching each man fall, she understood why so many arms had been called – not that the numbers appeared to be effective.

No sooner had she let herself admire the dangerously surreal scene than a sharp, blaze of pain screamed up her right arm, causing her to drop her blade. Blood rushed down the limb and her hand instantly slapped onto the wound to stem the bleeding. She staggered around, the breath abandoning her at the shock of taking a hit. One of the soldiers she'd knocked down was on his feet, knees wobbling in effort as he aimed his gun at her. There was a dent in his helmet; he was the one she shot; she hadn't killed him after all.

She glared at his quivering form, his ragged breaths echoing feebly inside the damaged helmet. She glanced at the gunblade by her feet. He'd already gotten one shot on her. Whether he'd been aiming at her arm or not, he'd proven that he could hold his own. Or was he just lucky? No, she'd been distracted and he'd taken advantage of it. She had to accept that shot as punishment. That was as far as her acceptance would go though. She wouldn't let him get another chance like that. She dove down for her weapon and he fired in fright. Clutching the gunblade in her less dominant hand and dropping to the ground, Lightning rolled clear of the bullets and mercilessly fired back. A gargled cry signaled that she hit something vital and this time he collapsed permanently.

She wasn't safe yet. Her small fray caught the attention of others and they hesitantly turned away from their losing battle with their target to try and subdue her instead. Grunting from the irritating blasts of pain throbbing through her arm, the defiant woman forced her legs – tiring from the subtly increasing cold – to stand and face the hopeless soldiers. She'd just gotten here. She wasn't going down before she got what she came for. Four men charged at her and she prepared to whirl into her mutli-enemy strike. They split apart before she could spin into the effective attack, though. Right arm hanging lamely at her side, Lightning thrust herself at the first guy.

He dodged her slash and she likewise dodged a kick for her ankles, driving back in and piercing beneath his armor. Her blade stuck in his flesh and she quickly jerked him around to cover her as a shield when the others began firing. His armor deflected the shots and gave her time to pull her weapon free. Pushing the dying man at them, Lightning had enough of a diversion to dart in, free of gunfire. She grappled with the next man as he released his gun to try and wrestle her weapon from her grasp. She threw her weight into him and they stumbled onto the ground. She bit back a yelp when she landed on her wounded arm and her grip faltered slightly on the blade.

Someone kicked her from behind and, growling in outrage, she hooked her leg behind the man's knees and swept him off his feet. She quickly dispatched the first guy she fell down with before sliding around on her knees for the next target. Before she had a visual, her neck snapped to the side, on the receiving end of a hard blow to her jaw. The gunblade slipped from her fingers and her eyes frantically blinked the stars from her vision. She heard the soldier gasp, "Just die, bitch!"

Half blindly, she tackled the man back down when he was midway to his feet. She forced energy into her bleeding arm and powered through the pain enough to get her hands around his head and jerk it to the side. She heard his neck snap and he stopped moving. She fell back, leaning on her good arm to keep her at least halfway upright. Her head was pounding and sweat plastered frigidly on her sin, sending more shudders through her body.

A chamber clicked nearby. Her gaze whipped up to find a barrel pressed against her head. The fourth soldier had her. In her haste and fatigue, she'd forgotten him. Damn. Hate filled her fire-blue eyes and she fixed them on the face she couldn't see, daring him to pull the trigger. He would have, gladly, except that he was suddenly deprived of the victory, just shy of taking the shot. Blood splashed against Lightning's face, the droplets exploding with heat. A dark blade protruded from the soldier's stomach, penetrating out from the heavy armor. A choked groan of despair accompanied the clatter of the gun as it fell to the ground. The sword withdrew back and the body fell down to join the others.

Silence now filled the courtyard as Lightning came face to face with the last man standing. He watched the soldier's body collapse with dispassionate, scarlet eyes that matched the blood coating his sword. He turned his head and focused his ruby gaze upon her. She surveyed him, cautiously, and it appeared he was doing the same. He had a pale, slightly angular face, framed with hectic, spiky hair as black as the robes of death. The light black leather adorning his lean frame, in addition to the calm and faintly stern expression on his face, suggested a much more tempered and practical combat education. No armor was necessary to prove he was a far more superior soldier than the men that had targeted him. He was deserving of much more respect than she had given the metal-clad novices. She didn't mind admitting that.

Movement shattered her careful observations as he took a step closer to her. Mistrust flared through her limbs and she scrambled for her gunblade. It hadn't fallen as far away as she feared and she quickly brought it between them. He stopped instantly, even took a few slow steps back. On instinct, she had latched to the weapon with her favored arm, temporarily forgetting it was out of commission. Waves of protest throbbed from the open wound and trembled with the effort it took to remain horizontal. She refused to let it fall, especially not in the face of danger.

Neither said anything. Only the whisper of the winter wind and her shallow, labored breath filled the courtyard. Slowly and carefully, the man began to raise his hands as a gesture of good faith. His sword shattered into the glittering crystal dust she'd watched spiral through the battle and vanished into the falling snow. Deliberately, she kept her eyes from straying to it. She wouldn't be distracted again. He remained still for a moment, keeping his palms turned towards her to show he had no weapons. Then, he surprised her with an act of submission and crouched down to her level on the ground.

She remained wary but, let the gunblade fold into its dormant state. She laid it across her thighs – just in case – and he lowered his hands, careful to keep them within her line of sight. He'd proven that he was no threat and that he could be reasonable. A refined and intelligent aura radiated off of him, reassuring her further that – at least for the moment – she could trust him.

"What's your name?" he asked, with a voice so cool and collected, it did well to start soothing Lightning's frayed nerves.

"Yours first," she retorted, suspiciously.

"It's Noctis, Noctis Caelum."

"Lightning."

They regarded each other quietly for a moment, putting the names to memory before he spoke again.

"I'm willing to offer you shelter and provide you with medical attention. I have a car waiting for me."

The coolness of his speech firmed slightly, making her eyes narrow. It didn't sound like he was giving her the option to decline although, it wasn't a hostile intonation. It was an insistent tone, one she could refuse but, would only be argued with until she was convinced to agree.

"I don't need your help!" she lashed out.

"You could be one of these corpses," he pointed out, gently.

She glared at him. He remained impassive. That rational half of her brain that she often disliked had already decided that she had to accept the offer. She had no idea where she was or what she was doing. There was a blizzard coming and her chances of surviving it were slim. If the weather didn't kill her, there were sure to be some more trigger-happy idiots that would hunt her down. So far, he was the only living thing that hadn't tried to kill her. She doubted she had any hope of finding someone similar.

With the same careful and considerate motions that kept him from becoming an enemy in her eyes, Noctis eased to his feet and tentatively offered her a hand up. She glared at it, then at him for even insinuating that she couldn't stand on her own. He let his hand fall to his side, respecting her wishes. She admired the courtesy and carefully helped herself to her feet, mindful of her hurt arm. She stood, straight and strong, placing her weapon in its casing. Her body still trembled with wear and exhaustion but, she refused to look weak in front of the man she owed her life to.

She glanced up and met his patient gaze. She blinked when she saw that the irises were no longer the bloody red she'd first faced. Now, they were a soft, sky blue. It made her feel a little less tense. He started walking, not waiting for her to follow. She watched the back of his head until the rising wind lifted her bloodied hair and whistled in her ears. Steeling herself, Lightning followed him, leaving a garden of death at her heels.

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><p><strong>AN: **So, this is probably going to be the most action-packed chapter in the story. I realize there's, like, three lines of dialogue but, I managed to reason with myself that since the rest of the story will consist of more dialogue than action, I let myself leave the big chunks of description in this chapter. Sorry about that. Action is my weakest genre so let me know if the fighting moved fast enough for you. It was difficult to get the pacing and the flow right this chapter but, I'm hoping it'll be much smoother now that Light and Noct have met and I can start up with the romance.

Please review! Let me know what you think so far!


	3. Sanctuary

**A/N: **OC Alert! Heads up for a minor, comic relief OC being introduced this chapter. I'll keep the warning brief since I'm sure you guys just want to dive right into the chapter after the long wait. I know OCs are kind of taboo in FanFiction but, I'm keeping this one in the background so, I'm hoping you guys won't hate her too much.

Alright, on with the chapter and I'll leave another note of ramblings and apologies at the finish. ;)

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><p><em>III ~ Sanctuary<em>

The sky ripped open with violent suddenness, letting a blistering blizzard ravage the empty city. They barely made it to the car in time before they were both made victims to this winter's cruelty. Exhausted as she was, the onslaught of snow sparked new urgency into Lightning's blood and she willed herself to keep pace with Noctis as he bolted into a run. She grit her teeth as the biting winds tore into her wound, her hand trembling at the effort it was taking to keep it covered.

She almost ended up slamming into the vehicle, blinded as she was by the sudden white-out. She squinted past the flakes collecting against her lashes, seeing Noctis pulling open the door of a sleek, black sedan, obscured by the swipes of gray and white blotting her vision. She aimed and dove inside when he stepped aside for her, sliding across crisp leather seats in relief. The door slammed behind him as he followed and the vicious howls of the storm were then muted, blocked by the tinted windows and merciful warmth of the interior.

Warmth. Heat. It was exhilarating on her bare skin, thawing her frigid thighs and melting her frosted fingertips. In seconds, she was soaked through with melted snow; it drenched her hair, ran off her eyes, and steamed from her clothes. Her head rolled back against the seat's headrest, steadily inhaling the fresh scent of the slick, black leather to settle her shivering breaths. Thanks were in order she supposed, somewhat bitterly. The storm had happened so suddenly and without warning that the more she imagined herself alone against it, the grimmer her outcomes became. She figured a mission from the Goddess wouldn't be easy but, she didn't think it would try to kill her this soon.

She stared at the car ceiling, viewing the shadowy form of her "rescuer" in her peripheral vision. She hated being indebted to people but, it went against her code of honor not to owe him something in return for helping her out. She started forming the words in her mind and already, they felt like bile on her tongue. When she lifted her head to speak to him though, she stopped short when she discovered they weren't alone.

There was a man in the driver's seat, turned to face them, and he was staring at her in very clear suspicion. Lightning's own eyes narrowed mistrustfully at the scrutiny and, on reflex, analyzed him just as skeptically: bronze-brown hair, gelled to stand at a point; pale hazel eyes hidden behind a sleek pair of glasses; a very proper, pressed, and tailored suit enveloping a straight-backed and rigid structure. There was a vague, frantic alertness in his eyes; a calculating and practiced judgment that sharpened his pale features. He was young – maybe a few years older than herself – but, he had the stern, wizened expression of an ancient general that had fought a hundred wars.

"So," the man started, speaking with the clear crispness of a royal dignitary. "I guess things didn't go quite according to plan then."

Saying so, his eyes slid to Noctis, like the flick of a switchblade but, Lightning noticed how they softened ever so slightly around the edges from the frostiness they regarded her in. She heard the other man sigh next to her but, didn't take her eyes off of the apprehensive one in front of her.

"A minor altercation," Noctis replied, softly. "The mission was a success either way. There were no survivors."

"Except one," the driver noted and looked back at Lightning, at the blood on her arm, and, especially, at the holster holding her gunblade behind her knees.

"This is Lightning, a…bystander. She was caught in the crossfire."

"What were you doing there?" the driver asked her, hardly concealing the accusation in his voice as Noctis struggled with the right word to fit her situation as he saw it. "That fight was taking place on private property. You were trespassing."

"Ignis…"

Lightning didn't miss the command in Noctis's voice, the same tone he'd used to convince her to follow after him. It stopped the driver from adding anything further but, didn't suppress the intense demand for an answer in his gaze. Lightning was far from intimidated though and regarded him with the same impervious coolness she would give under any enemy interrogation.

"I was lost," she admitted, truthfully but, vaguely. "I was looking for shelter from the storm."

"New to the city then, are you?" he interrupted before she finished.

She stared him down, knowing full well that he was jumping on that fact which she herself didn't have: the answer to why this city was a ghost town, why there were soldiers firing around every corner, and why the group that had spotted her had exhibited such unwarranted hostility. She wasn't supposed to be there – in more ways than one she was starting to understand. When she didn't answer him, he pounced again.

"That's one hell of a get-up for a 'bystander,'" he pointed out, acknowledging the armor on her shoulder, just like the other soldiers had. "Tell me, who's side are you playing for, soldier?"

"Enough," Noctis interjected, sternly, easing forward to draw the other man's focus. "Take us home, please. Now's not the time for this."

The car was silent as the two men watched each other. Lightning glanced between them, her battle-sensitive nerves sparking back to life under the tension. This time, the command from Noctis had required more force and directness to be taken seriously. Judging by the reaction of the driver, Ignis, force wasn't something he was used to from the other male. Regardless, Lightning still detected his skepticism and despite the new compliance that settled across his face, she knew he wasn't about to apologize – not that she expected him to in the first place (she'd crack his glasses if he did).

"As you wish…My Lord."

Something in Lightning's stomach tightened as Ignis ducked his head like a misbehaved dog and faced ahead to start the car. "My Lord"…just who exactly was this man whom she'd watched tear through a hundred men and then took her in? She looked over at Noctis and, oddly, spotted the briefest flash of pain wrinkle the corners of his blue eyes in response to his driver's words. He glanced over at her when he felt her watching and his expression became guarded yet, apologetic. The contact was broken shortly afterwards when the car's engine roared to life and they lurched forward through the snow.

Lightning turned away to look out the window, squinting to try and see through the furious bullets of frozen rain. Memories trickled back to her through the gray-white wall of racing snowflakes as she thought of similar tempests on Gran Pulse that had left her and her companions shivering under the nearest cleft or cave; as she thought of home, in Bodhum, where summer never seemed to end and she never had to worry about fighting for her life against that kind of fierceness in nature; where she and Serah always stayed out in the sun…

Serah. Once more, she was separated from her little sister by another world she didn't understand. This place was dark and cold, plagued by deception – she could sense it. It would perhaps be an even greater challenge than Pulse. Of that she was certain but, she _had _to do this, for Fang and Vanille…They deserved better than what they got. She could only pray that Serah would understand why she couldn't stand for their fate; why she couldn't let them be locked away in motionless immortality while time continued onward...Not again.

She was startled out of her thoughts when the plastic edge of a first aid kit nudged her leg. She looked from it to Noctis, finding his expression uncertain, and it took her a second to remember why – it almost made her smile in amusement. Almost. After her reluctance to accept his help, he was being cautious about not letting her care for herself. It was a relief that he could appreciate that about her – not many did. She nodded to him in gratitude before pulling the white box into her lap. A small twitch of his lips turned them into a brief smile before he turned away and shuffled through his pockets. She felt Ignis's eyes on her in the rear-view mirror but, restrained herself - with admirable effort on her part - from glaring back.

Her stress melted away with the cold as she found everything she needed to relieve herself of her impediment. Moving with deft swiftness, she cleared the excess blood from her skin with the clean cloths provided before applying the antibiotics. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Noctis place a very sleek, very expensive, and high-tech-looking cellular device to his ear. There was a long pause before he spoke into it. When he did speak, there was the slightest edge of annoyance in his voice.

"Kat, put that game down and pick up the phone."

Almost instantaneously, Lightning heard the faint chatter of another person through the phone. Noctis closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted and it was hard to tell if it was from the fight or from already knowing this person was difficult to talk to - it sounded like they were.

"Listen to me," he said, forcing graveness into his voice to get this person's attention. "This is important…No, I'm fine…_I'm fine_. I'm bringing someone over. She was hurt in the battle so we're going to show her some hospitality and give her a hand."

Lightning started unraveling the medical gauze after cleaning her bullet-wound but, paused and looked up in shock when a loud, high-pitched screeching sound pierced through the phone. Noctis jerked the device away from his ear, the excited squealing filling the car. There was some incoherent babbling before the squeals died down to a safer pitch and Noctis could bring the phone back to his ear. Lightning looked up front when she thought she heard an amused snort from the driver. Instead, she found Ignis pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, coughing quietly.

"Please, calm down," Noctis was saying in exasperation. "Just prep a shower and make dinner for two."

The woman (it _had_ to be a woman) said something on the other end that made his brow twitch and Lightning swore he was battling off an embarrassed blush.

"Just do it, please," he mumbled before quickly hanging up.

While he'd been talking, Lightning had expertly wound the gauze around the wound with her one good hand. When he was done, she returned her full attention to the task, not knowing what to make of the bizarre exchange. Ignis looked like he was about to make a remark but, a sharp glare from Noctis changed his mind. She finished her work, tightening the knot to keep the small cast on by pulling one end of the bandage with her teeth and the other with her hand. She then collected all the soiled materials from the kit.

"Leave it," Noctis told her when he noticed. "It'll get taken care of."

She looked at him like she was about to argue and he looked like he was about to apologize. For sounding too demanding? She wasn't quite sure why. She met his eyes, inquisitively for a moment, before curtly bobbing her head in a nod and leaving everything on the car floor by her feet. Sighing silently, Lightning leaned back in her seat and stared out the window.

The car became dangerously quiet; the roaring of the storm and the rhythmic heartbeat of the racing windshield wipers became the only distraction from the tension that still vibrated through the small space. Mistrust sat coiled like a tumor in Ignis's irate posture. Noctis _looked_ to be at ease – his elbow against the car door, his head resting upon his knuckles, and his eyes set on his boots – but, the roiling turmoil of chaotic thoughts itching to burst from beneath his skin shone in his eyes. She was sure the questions they wanted answered weren't that far off from her own.

Why was she there? Who was this "Lord" Noctis Caelum that commanded so much power? What conflict had cleared the city streets and what were those soldiers after, back at that complex she'd stumbled into? What did this all have to do with her mission from Etro? Where exactly was this place she had sent her? Lightning had no idea where to begin asking.

In addition, there was the catalog of all the bizarre things she'd seen and heard that she had to investigate: the "_Archylte _Energy Science Offices"; how everyone recognized her to be a soldier, even though she'd seen no such badge like the one on her shoulder upon any of the fighters she'd faced; the stunning abilities Noctis had displayed that she could never imagine, even in her wildest of dreams; and, finally, the cryptic words of the goddess:

"…demise...

…deceit…

...damnation…"

…She wasn't sure how long the drive lasted or at what point she had started to drift into a partial, troubled slumber. Through the veil of sleep, she felt that the car was no longer in motion and also that Noctis was shifting beside her. It jump-started her back into awareness, and as she blinked the tiredness from her eyes, she leaned forward, anxiously peering around the front passenger seat to look out the windshield.

Ignis was hunched over the steering wheel, struggling to see past the thick rivulets of snow. The car's headlights illuminated a row of black, wrought-iron bars that stoically prevented the car from moving forward.

"This is ridiculous," Ignis said to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "There's too much snow for the gates to open automatically. I could try digging them loose…"

Suddenly, before either Lightning or Ignis could even register that he had moved, a brutal gust of snow collided with the car's heat as Noctis slipped outside and into the blizzard.

"What? Wait! Pr…"

Ignis fumbled with his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car after him. His last words were devoured by the roar of the blizzard before Lightning could hear them. The car door slammed shut and the wounded soldier was left alone, sitting on the edge of her seat, trying to see. The two men soon appeared as silhouettes in the headlights, huddling close together at the base of the gates, trying to communicate over the wind. Never one to just sit idly by, Lightning was just about to join them when a small red glow caught her attention. It started where she guessed their hands to be, steadily brightening into more noticeable shades of red until it was orange in color. When they parted, the red-orange light stayed with each of them. It increased ever so slightly in intensity before propelling away from their hands and into the snow.

Lightning recognized what it was instantly: fire magic. They were using the little orbs of flame to melt the snow away from the gates. How did they do it, she wondered, suddenly intrigued. Was it some kind of Manadrive perhaps? Or was it more like l'Cie magic? Or was it something entirely different, native to this strange, dark world? It was taboo to be able to perform magic on Cocoon and she'd been trained to identify it with l'Cie – the monsters that wanted to destroy her home. After becoming a l'Cie herself, the edge of suspicion was greatly dulled but…old habits died hard, she supposed. As quickly as they could, the two freezing men freed the gates of their ivory entrapment and dragged them open, enough for the car to squeeze through. They rushed back when the way was clear, two dark blurs in a frothing ocean of white.

Ice laced back into the vehicle as the two doors opened and they collapsed back inside, clusters of snow in their hair and red on their cheeks. There was a pause as they took a moment to readjust to the heat. Then, Ignis made a grunting sound of discontent, brushed his disheveled attire back into neat order, and eased the car through the opening. Noctis shook the snow from his hair, drawing Ignis's scolding gaze in the rear-view mirror. The relationship between the two perplexed Lightning: she couldn't tell if that stern protectiveness she felt coming off of Ignis was the result of a familial connection – like she and Serah – or if it was occupational – like security. At any rate, she couldn't dwell on it. She was too focused on the massive wall of darkness that loomed in the shower of ice up ahead.

The storm continued to obscure everything beyond the windows except this new structure Lightning was faced with. It stood boldly and powerfully through the white tempest, a colossal, ebony mansion that was as dark and imposing as the raging sky in its back-drop, rising menacingly from the ice-glazed earth. Slim yet, squat towers, crowned with devil horn spires, framed the main structure, which arched like the back of an obsidian dragon between them, adorned with knife-like, ridged detailing. The towers were connected down to the main building's rooftop by a stunning and intricate network of arches and buttresses. The curvaceous shape and position of the spidery network brought to mind the webbed skin that separated fingers, so delicate that it looked like it could snap with the swipe of a scissor.

The car cruised beneath the fearsome gaze of the manor and from the angle she was looking up at it from, the roof and spires looked as if they stretched into the sky and never stopped until they pierced Valhalla. The webs stretching from the towers fanned out above as they passed, wider and sturdier than they looked from a distance, like protective talons. Vast, blackened windows glared out at the snow; onyx pillars held an arched overhang aloft above a broad, ornately carved door that was tucked into a spacious verandah; a staircase flowed out from under said door but, was so heavily carpeted with the frozen precipitation, it was difficult to even tell it was there.

Ignis drove past the main face of the mansion and down the length of it. All manner of balconies and gargoyles decorated every inch of its outer walls. The roof dipped into canopies over elaborate French doors and windows, glistening with frost. Glass-domed walkways occasionally balanced between separations in the stonework and monstrous creatures leered at her from every pointed surface.

They passed into the back of the castle where a long stretch of cleared land separated the coldly beautiful building from another, humbler structure. Garden statues, fountains, and other formations peered out from their thick coatings of white as they drove by and a neat line of trees fenced the plot of hidden land off from the little, snow-covered road they drove on. The land sloped downwards and they drove on an invisible, winding path that Ignis must have driven down a million times if he could keep to it so faithfully without seeing it.

As the earth crept out from beneath the wheels, their destination inched higher and higher above them. In size, it paled beneath the shadow-stoned goliath behind them, however, it was equal in its majesty. It was octagonal in shape but, had a rooftop constituting of many slanting, pointed, trapezoid-like shapes. Pillars barred snow-dusted porches and outdoor walkways on all sides except the front which only featured tall, black, double doors. Unlike the manor-house, every window was alight with a warm, yellow glow and there wasn't a scowling gargoyle to be seen. Also, whereas the first house was a boastful four stories high, this was a more modest two stories.

They drove into what Lightning could barley tell was a courtyard (the only indication being the vast fountain that sat a couple yards from the main doors (its details remained blurred)). Ignis braked as close to the doors as possible, in front of another hill of snow that curved from the base of the entrance, indicating more stairs.

"Make a run for it, I guess," Ignis sighed, his mouth twitching down into an annoyed scowl at the frustrating weather.

Lightning glanced back at Noctis as he slid across the seats, closer to her side, ready to spring out into the gale and race to the door. She placed her hand on the car door handle, anticipating the action, and glued her sights to the entrance-way. She feigned patience when he halted to converse with Ignis again.

"Where will you go?" he asked his associate after a hesitant pause.

"I'll park this in the garage and make my way to the nearest guest house."

There was another heavy pause and Lightning drew her focus away to look between them. Noctis looked conflicted, like he wanted to offer the man something but, didn't know how to word it so he would be convinced to accept it. Ignis gave a polite smile to the younger man in the rear-view mirror, clearly able to read it on his face as well.

"It's not my place to stay there, even in these conditions."

Noctis's blue eyes darkened – with sadness, with anger, Lightning couldn't tell – before he turned to her and moved. Like a trigger beneath a gunman's finger, she was pressed out into the storm and shot towards the target.

Her exposed body was bombarded with spears of ice and her legs were trapped knee-deep in the snow the instant she stepped out of the car. She was stunned for a second and was almost blown over to be buried in an ivory grave if not for the helpful hand of the dark stranger. He clasped her numb fingers in his and hurriedly waded them through the frozen, white sea. She struggled along after him, too overwhelmed by the ferociousness of the gust to make it up there on her own. Her concentration was swept away by the blizzard and her body dragged itself along after Noctis purely by instinct, latching onto the only other glimmer of warmth in the freezing torrent.

By the time they made it to the door, Lightning's skin felt like it was blackening with frostbite. Noctis disengaged to throw his weight into pushing the door open. When she registered this, she pushed blindly forward until she hit a solid face, and rammed her unharmed shoulder against it to aid him. A groan like that of a weary old man met the hollering of the wind as the door gave way and slid inward. The pair tumbled inside, and before she had a moment to catch her breath, he was dragging it closed behind them. By the time she moved to help him, a series of intricate locks were thrown shut and the bellows of the storm were silenced.

She stood, blinking the sting of snow and ice out of her eyes and breathing heavily from the fatigue the whole venture had weighed on her. She took a moment to collect her bearings and get oriented with the new setting.

They were in a wide lobby, illuminated by an elaborate, silver-gilded chandelier with crystal lights. A staircase padded with black carpeting lead up to the second floor to her right, set between the wall and a mahogany railing that curled up to fence in a landing above. There were openings to hallways on either end that she couldn't see down from where she stood and doors were closed along its walls. Across the lobby and below the landing, double doors were set open to a lavish library, whose interior she didn't have time to investigate. To her left, a door was open leading into a large dining room. To her right, before the stairs, was another door that wasn't open.

The crystalline light was gentle and warmly golden, matching the cozy temperature. Regardless of the home's opulence, Lightning felt welcome here, more so than she was sure she would have felt in the bigger house. The interior seemed more like a home she could afford rather than a millionaire's mansion. A carved cupboard sat against the wall, closest to the dining room; there was a large coat rack by the front door that held two coats and a ski-cap; and there was a small glass table on the opposing side. A vase of wilting red roses sat, lonely, on top of it.

Noctis stepped up beside her as she shook the snow out of her hair and batted it off of her clothes. He looked around, scanning the landing, then the way into the library, then the door to the dining room. The only indication of his being frustrated was a slight, hardly perceptible, jerk of an eyebrow. As if that scarce, hint of a movement was some kind of summon, the sound of doors opening and closing echoed from the dining room, followed by the excited scurry of running footsteps. A girl suddenly darted from the doorway and slid to a stop in front of them.

"You made it! I thought you'd be buried alive out there for sure! Congrats on surviving!"

She was a little younger than herself, more like Serah's age, Lightning thought, giving her a wary look-over. She had a petite body structure, blessed with pixie-like thinness, soft-pink skin, and mossy green eyes. Her hair was long, black, and a little unkempt, with lazy tangles at the ends; it was parted to the right with bangs that lifted into a gentle arch along her eye. She wore baggy black pants, black and white sneakers, a T-shirt emblazoned with the image of a singer Lightning didn't recognize, and a raggedy, blue-and-white, horizontally-striped, hooded sweatshirt that was left unzipped. The girl's exuberant smile was a clear indicator that she was the woman Noctis had called in the car – it matched the gleeful shrieks that had startled her. Her gaze turned to Lightning and widened in surprise.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, looking her up and down, appraisingly. "Look at you! You're really something else! When Noct said he was bringing a girl home – "

On that note, Noctis stepped between what sounded like an inevitable, uncomfortable, and embarrassing rant from berating Lightning's ears.

"Not now, Kat. This is Lightning. She was wounded out at the armory."

He turned his head towards the soldier and gestured to the stranger, presenting her in an almost apologetic and regretful way.

"This is Katrina Felix, my housemaid. She'll help you get settled."

She caught him muttering a doubtful "hopefully" as he turned back and the girl rolled her eyes at him before focusing again on Lightning, jerking her head towards the staircase.

"Right this way. I got the guest bathroom all set for ya."

The ex-soldier glanced between the dark-haired duo. She had half of a profile written out for Noctis, enough so she could follow him without having her gun pressed at the back of his head. For the moment, at least until she found her footing in this world, she had a feeling she could trust him. Ignis would be problematic – the initial reaction told her everything she needed to know about him. Now, there was this housemaid, whose enthusiasm pulsated out through her grinning teeth like a shockwave. Lightning just didn't know what to make of it. She took her gaze away from analyzing Katrina and looked to Noctis, questioningly. He recognized her discomfort and gave her a half-nod of reassurance. Her jaw stiffened as she turned towards the stairs, still loathing the amount of reliance she was forcing out of herself.

Katrina bounced after her after a silent exchange with Noctis that she didn't see. It consisted of the maid giving her master a big thumbs up and he shaking his head in disgust before pushing her after their guest. Lightning reached the top of the stairs, oblivious, and peered down the hallways, getting a deeper lay of the land. They stretched far and narrow, lined with _lots_ of closed doors. Katrina joined her on the landing and smiled invitingly, turning to go down left. Still cautious, Lightning followed her, glancing down at the lobby to find that Noctis had already vanished.

"I think you'll find everything you need. If not, don't hesitate to give me a yell. I'm at your service!" the maid yipped, opening one of the mahogany doors in the east hall.

She made a grand, sweeping gesture into the room and Lightning blinked, confusedly, in place of scowling in annoyance. She looked in to find a large lavatory with a simple, white-tiled floor and walls of swirling marble. Black and gray towels hung neatly on a towel rack to the right and a big, mahogany vanity rested against the opposite wall. Two women peered back at them from the mirror – one grinning, one frowning – like theater masks. On the other side of the room was the shower.

"Just leave your clothes outside the door and I'll have them washed by the time you're finished."

Lightning had taken a precautionary step into the room when Katrina started to leave. She turned and stopped her, having to at least reject _something_ to make herself feel less helpless.

"That's not necessary…" she tried arguing before a hand, half-hidden by over-long sweatshirt sleeves, was flapped towards her in disregard.

"Think nothing of it! It'll only take a second. Besides, Noct would get grumpy if I didn't tend to your every whim."

"I…don't have any whims."

"Well, you do now!"

Lightning was on the verge of snapping at her but, the go-lucky smile was making her feel too guilty to go through with it. The silence was like a tense chord pulled taut, reverberating with a frustrated hum around the room as Lightning surveyed it once more. She briefly considered drawing her blade and holding it at the girl's throat – if only to make a point of not taking orders - but, Lightning caught herself and expressed her submission through a sharp "huff" of a sigh.

"Fine," she muttered, and Katrina gave a clap of glee as the soldier undid her holster. "But, _this_ stays with me."

Katrina put her hands up in willing surrender as Lightning leaned the weapon against the wall.

"No problem. I wouldn't know where to begin cleaning that anyway," she laughed. "I'll be back in a minute for your clothes. Enjoy your shower!"

With that, the door closed on the face of the odd, young maid, and Lightning was mercifully left to her solitude. Regardless of it only being a matter of hours since she'd arrived, it already felt like days since she had been given time to herself – to regroup, recalculate, recharge. She closed her eyes and inhaled, slowly, letting the gentle scent of clean linen and fresh soap wind its way through her clenched muscles and pull apart her tangled nerves.

She exhaled and opened her eyes as the toxins of mistrust and paranoia flooded out through parted lips. She silently coached herself into focusing on the task at hand, turning to scrutinize the frosted glass of the shower stall as she undid the fastenings of her blood-stained jacket. She'd never been a guest in a wealthy man's home. She wasn't used to having someone…_serve_ her. It made her uncomfortable to think of Katrina as a servant, as she neatly folded the jacket and placed it on the vanity before stepping out of her boots. If that happiness was _natural_ then, she thought she could - maybe - grow to like the girl.

With that thought in mind, she ended up dividing the articles of clothing into a "Necessary" and an "Unnecessary" pile, intent on being as little of a burden as possible. Wrapping one of the gray towels around her athletic body, she surveyed the "Necessary" pile, critically: military jacket…and skirt…As expected, it was drastically low. As far as she was concerned though, the clothes with blood on them were the most important to get clean if her hosts were so insistent on her giving laundry. Hesitantly, she picked them up and went to the door, opening it a crack to peer out into the hall. Clutching where the towel knotted to stay aloft, she quickly placed the clothes as per instruction and locked herself back inside, her brow twitching, faintly.

She crossed over to the shower then and admired the granite interior as she twisted the crystal knobs. Water streamed out in a secret whisper through the gleaming shower-head and pattered like spring rain onto the stone floor. Leaving the towel within reach, she closed herself inside and sighed in relief when her prickling skin met the steam of the water. Quiet, silver-blue tendrils cascaded through rose-blonde tresses, trembled over charcoal lashes, and ran down pale, sun-kissed skin with casual caresses. For a minute or two, she just stood in the water, relishing the transparent delicacy of it across her skin. Then, she closed her eyes and turned her face up to the spray, letting it gently thrum against and massage her weary eyelids.

For now, this was all she needed. It was enough to cleanse her of her worries and wash away the clutter in her mind, curtained by closed eyes. She could finally grasp rationality and just _think_. A clear head. Clarity. That was all she needed. For now.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Ramble #1:...Where do I begin with my apologies? Guys, I really have no idea where the time went. One second, it was August and I was on a roll, the next...it's December and Christmas is in a week! What the hell? I won't pile all of my excuses on everyone but, I really hope I haven't lost any readers due to the delay. This is the exact same mistake I've made on past fics and this was the one story I didn't want to do it to. Trust me, I WANT to write this story but, all the negative forces of the universe really won't let me.

Ramble #2: As a result of me stressing over getting this chapter up before the holidays, I think it ended up sloppy. I know, my readers deserve a lot better after I put you through such a long wait. I could have kept this on hold for a little while longer and rewritten the entire thing but, I didn't want to put that much more time between this and the last update so, I took a risk and put this up, even though I'm really not feeling too good about it. I ended up keeping Noctis and Lightning as quiet as possible because I was afraid of messing up their character and focused more on snow and houses - aka boring stuff - than providing something interesting to follow-up last chapter.

Ramble #3: I hope you'll be able to tolerate my OC. Give me any feedback you've got on her. There was going to be more to this chapter where I would explore her character a little more but, I didn't think I could write it and get this posted by the date I wanted in time so, I cut it off at the "for now." And, hopefully, "for now," this is enough.

In conclusion, I'm so sorry I made all you wonderful readers wait! Your reviews are the best I've ever received! Every time I found one sitting in my inbox, it made me feel like I was glowing. I'm flattered by your wonderful and beautiful comments and I would be so ashamed in myself if I lost any of you because I can't seem to get my ass in gear and WRITE! I love each and every one of you that have left such support. You'll never know how much I appreciate it. :)

I'm sorry for the wait, sorry for the not-up-to-par quality of this chapter but, I promise next chapter will focus just on Noctis and Lightning. Hopefully, I can channel some "Moonstruck" and "ALSLS" and make some magic happen! I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday in the meantime, as well. Thank you very much!


	4. Trust Me

_IV ~ Trust Me_

It was the little things that spoke volumes about the character of her hosts. When Lightning had finished with her shower and peered out the door in search of her clothes, she found more than she expected. Resting atop the neatly folded squares of clothing, sat a fresh roll of bandages. She quirked an eyebrow up at this before quickly drawing the articles inside. Her current cast hadn't even crossed her mind until she'd stepped into the shower and the gauze had started to swell with moisture. Whether the new roll was by Noctis's order or by Katrina's own observance, Lightning valued small gestures such as these the most, regardless of where the responsibility lay.

After redressing her wound and slipping back into her now clean clothes, Lightning strapped on her gunblade and headed back downstairs, making sure to keep the bathroom exactly the same as she found it. She allowed a last, relieved sigh as the door closed behind her, feeling calm, collected, and prepared to face the world again. It was astounding how liberating a little water could make one feel. She'd thought long and hard about all the questions she had. The water humming against her skull had flushed out the unnecessary ones, leaving her with clear-cut objectives in mind. Thinking carefully about the way she would word her questions to Noctis, Lightning marched down the hall and out to the landing, headed to the staircase.

Her hand was on the railing when she paused, caught by surprise when, down the hall to her left, Noctis emerged from one of the rooms. He had changed out of his battle-ready attire and into more casual wear – although it didn't make him look any less serious. The color scheme didn't change: black, leather shoes; dark, tailored jeans; and a long-sleeved, black, button-up dress shirt. He spotted her the same time she did and she greeted him with a nod that he reciprocated. He delayed in meeting her for a moment to deal with an old, stubborn door to the room he'd just left. It stuck midway through the door-frame and needed a firm kick to close entirely. He wasn't flustered though. He must have been used to it. When the room was closed off to his liking, he met her at the top of the stairs, closing the last top buttons of his shirt.

They observed each other in silence. Turquoise eyes carefully scanned the other from head to toe, committing to memory as many useful details to character that could be read from the physical aspect of a person. She'd gleaned as much from his outward persona as she could – which wasn't much. His intentions were still veiled in mystery. The only way to know them was to know him. Noctis met her with his eyes again after a finalizing glance at her bound wound. She had a feeling he'd gathered as much about her as she had him: not much. Good.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked, his soft voice melting out to fill the silence.

"Much," she replied with a reaffirming nod. "Thanks…You didn't have to go through all that trouble…"

He shook his head, giving her a reserved smile that only seemed to emphasize and define his generosity. She didn't believe it to be false.

"It's hardly a trouble. It's been a long time since any of the guest rooms have been put to use. I'm glad to give this house at least a little purpose."

She summoned a brief, fleeting smile to convey her thanks before casting her eyes down to her hand, resting on the stair railing, and contemplated how to ask him her questions without igniting suspicion. She didn't know why she was acting as if she was some kind of runaway convict when she didn't know herself why she was there but, she trusted her instincts and they told her to proceed with caution. Before she could gather her words together though, Noctis's voice gently intruded on her thoughts.

"Kat should be preparing dinner. You must be hungry."

"No!" Lightning quickly rejected. "You've done enough. I don't…"

"Please. I insist."

There was that look again - the one he'd given her when they first met which had persuaded her to follow him. She wasn't going to give in so easily this time though, not when she felt perfectly fine now and didn't require anything else from him, other than answers.

"I don't want to cause extra work for your maid," she said, coolly.

He laughed suddenly – a dark and lucid sound – and she blinked in confusion before her eyes narrowed, not seeing any humor in her words. Her glare demanded an explanation.

"Trust me," he said. "Cooking extra food is the last thing Kat mind's doing."

He stepped aside and extended his arm, gesturing for her to go down the stairs, as if his statement had decided for her that she would accept the hospitality. She gave him a reproachful glance, starting to find his flawless manners to be smothering. Regardless, she went down before him (she'd been heading in that direction, anyway). He followed her like a shadow a couple steps behind. When they hit the ground floor, he guided her into the dining room. A long, mahogany table greeted her that was polished to reflect the baroque chandeliers above like a mirror. Tall, gilded windows lined both walls, robed in deep azure curtains. At the furthest end of the table (which looked like it could seat thirty people) dishes were set around a casual little center piece of pine and wintergreens.

Noctis headed down to the setting and she followed on the opposite side. As she grew nearer, she noticed a set of swinging doors that lead to another room a few feet from the end seats. The only reason she noticed them was because the faint sound of strange music thrummed out from beneath them. She didn't comment on it – her host didn't seem to find it distracting and she didn't see any harm in it either. She had to force herself to sit in the chair opposite Noctis, every ounce of her being screaming at her to take control and not submit to being waited on. However, yet again, that stubborn rationality was reining in her instincts and it made her sit.

The vast room was veiled in quiet. The muted growling of the storm drummed against the walls from outside, softly complementing the rhythm beating from the other room. Lightning couldn't make herself comfortable. She could tell Noctis was making an effort not to stare at her while she shifted in her seat. The unfamiliar territory and the calm atmosphere made her overtly suspicious, especially after the cascade of bullet fire she'd just survived. There was no such thing as break-time for her – not at home; not here.

It wasn't long before the servant girl burst through the swinging doors that had captured Lightning's attention, rolling in a dinner cart laden with covered plates. Music of an upbeat, punkish song she had never heard bellowed out behind Katrina before the doors muffled it again, shuffling shut behind her. The girl continued to hum the tune, a dance in her steps as she approached.

"Hi!" she greeted Lightning, catching the soldier off guard. "Feeling better now, aren't ya?"

The woman blinked once and then nodded, slowly glancing between her and Noctis. They were like doppelgangers of each other, asking the same things but in a different demeanor.

"Great! You'll feel even better once you eat!"

Kat placed her dish in front of her, oddly ecstatic about lifting the cover and unveiling the meal. A gust of steam and mouth-watering aroma sighed across her senses: a delicate blend of spices – garlic, onion, pepper; something smoky and rustic, like any home-cooked meal that could warm the soul. And that was just how it smelled. It looked like some flawless dish of a still life painting. A thick, grill-marked steak, sat on a bed of white rice turned golden by a brown sauce and some spices. Splashes of color – green beans, mushrooms, tomatoes – dotted throughout the plate. Decorative lemon slices fanned out on the side.

Lightning clamped her mouth shut, feeling it salivate like a mad dog and begged her stomach to be silent. Kat gave the same to Noctis, placed down a bread basket, a silver tub of gravy, a pitcher of water, and, finally, a bottle of wine.

"Nothing numbs a bullet-wound quite like a good bottle of Pinot," Kat said, uncorking the bottle with a loud pop, and pouring them each a glass.

She paused for a moment, surveying the table with a critical glance before nodding her head in certainty. Then, she took a step back and took a rather dramatic, out of place bow.

"Enjoooy!" she sang and retreated with the empty cart back to her domain, the pulsing of the music welcoming her return.

Lightning and Noctis were left in silence once again. He had given a perturbed eye-roll at his servant's theatrical gesturing but, was otherwise content. He raised his wine glass to his lips and took a sip, glancing between Lightning and the plate in front of her with stern reprimand. She didn't have enough reserve to defy him anymore so, she followed his unspoken order with gritted teeth and picked up her knife and fork. He continued to watch her until the first piece of meat was actually in her mouth. Only then was he pleased enough to address his own meal. She was in the middle of scornfully glaring at him for looking at her as if she were a stubborn child when she paused suddenly, overcome by the unexpected flavors, tantalizing her taste-buds.

To say the food was delicious would be the understatement of a lifetime. It was savory, with a perfect balance of sweet and spicy touches. The meat was tender and light as a cloud, melting in her mouth like chocolate. She'd never tasted something so exquisite, her diet mainly consisting of coffee, microwavable lunches, and her sibling's experimental dinner concoctions. Rarely was she ever treated to a meal that was so…artistic.

She looked up when she saw Noctis in her peripheral, watching her strangely again. He didn't seem at all floored by the food. Did he eat like this every day? In an attempt to lessen the unbearable awkwardness between them, she opted for saying something to explain her behavior.

"Um…My compliments to the chef…"

He smiled, nodded, and said, "I wouldn't tell her that. Kat's ego doesn't need more stroking."

Lightning raised a confounded brow, taking another forkful of beef before asking, "Your maid is your chef, too?"

"Kat is…my master multi-tasker. She cooks, she cleans - sometimes - she doesn't complain, and helps keep me sane."

Lightning smiled a little at the amusement in his voice, glancing at what she now assumed to be the kitchen door.

"Sounds like hard work. Did she know what the job description was when you hired her?"

"Kat's work is 'completely voluntary,'" Noctis said, quietly, taking small bites from his meal – while it was taking Lightning all of her restraint not to wolf hers down. "At least, she seems to think so. It's a chore just to keep her from throwing her paycheck back in my face."

Lightning laughed outright this time, able to find something relatable in that kind of independence.

"You two seem…close," she couldn't stop herself from pointing out.

"We've known each other for quite some time."

There were many stories to be told beneath his words about that. She could hear it in the undercurrents of his voice, the shift in his eyes but, she wasn't about to get personal. She didn't need to know his life story when her residency was hardly going to be permanent. She distracted herself from talking again by focusing on the food. The silence was comfortable this time now that they'd established a tone with the pleasantries. It gave her more time to consider the things she wanted to ask him – and how to ask them.

She savored the last bites of her plate, knowing she'd probably never taste something so divine again. When the plate was empty, she leaned back in her seat and glanced briefly at her untouched wine glass. She dismissed the thought with an instant shudder and set her sights squarely upon the man across from her. Seeing that she was waiting to start talking more seriously, Noctis placed his silverware upon the table, took a gulp of wine, and sat back expectantly, lacing his fingers together in front of him. Goddess, where did she start?

"So…that was some battalion back there…" she began, choosing her words with meticulous care.

All she gained in response was a disinterested shrug and the murmured words, "I suppose."

Her eyes slanted at the simplicity of his reply. He met her gaze with impassive coolness, only furthering her impression that he had secrets he wanted kept just as she did. This would be harder than she thought.

"Who were they?"

"Invading soldiers from Tenebrae."

"How long has that been going on?" she asked, not letting on that she had no idea what Tenebrae was.

"Three years now," he answered, then paused and looked at her intently before suddenly asking, "Where do you live?"

"Not around here."

The suspicion that hardened his gaze came as no surprise. All patience had its limits. He regarded her, coolly, trying to pierce beneath her skin and divulge her secrets from her with simply a stare.

"Was Ignis right? Am I harboring a Tenebrae spy?" he asked, slowly; calmly.

She felt the weight of her shoulder guard again. Slowly, she shook her head and gave an assuring, "No."

"Then you're one of ours."

Lightning stiffened. That didn't make any sense. And he knew it, too. Although his expression remained a blank slate, she could see that he was watching for her reaction. He would get his answers from her no matter if she told him them or not. He knew what questions to ask to get them. Her ignorance about this new world made her as easy to catch as a rabbit in a snare. Well, she thought, maybe if she played dead, she could still get out of this trap.

"No," she sighed, dropping her eyes in surrender.

"So, you stole that uniform?"

She nodded. Her stomach was churning with anxiety now. So much for enjoying that meal.

"From which country?" he inquired.

She stared at him in disbelief, her thoughts numb. Still, his stare remained unchanged. It was driving her out of her mind! How did she get herself into this position? She was the one that always held the cards! But now, this man had her trapped and she had nowhere to go. Typically, her fight or flight nature took a hold of her rationality. Her eyes flickered towards the doors they'd entered through for a split second and then, running on impulse, the chair slid back with a whine as she rushed to stand.

"Please, sit down," he ordered as she moved, unsurprised by her reaction. "I'm not trying to make you feel threatened."

"Really? I couldn't tell!" she snapped, prepared to shoot him if he tried to stop her from bolting.

Noctis, however, remained perfectly, _painfully_ calm, his pale fingers still gracefully folded on the table; his posture still at comfort and ease in his chair; his face still blank and his eyes still clear and thoughtful, always watching her.

"My apologies," he said, bowing his head, slightly. "My intention wasn't to make you feel uncomfortable."

"Then what exactly are your 'intentions?'" she growled, her fingers curled against the table's edge.

"To understand what's going on, as I'm sure you want to know as well."

There was a tense pause where Lightning searched his blue gaze, not forgetting the crimson irises she'd seen upon their first encounter. He was dangerous when he wasn't hospitable – she knew that – but, so was she. Why should she yield to him?

"Please," he implored her again, gently inclining his head towards her chair. "Sit. Allow me to explain myself."

She considered it and then, turned her head towards the doors, seeing the staircase across the way and knowing the main entrance was just a few short feet towards the right. But, after that was the mercilessness of the snowstorm. How far would she get before she was buried alive and frozen to death? She glanced back at him. There was absolutely no indication that he planned on pursuing her if she fled – probably because he knew she'd get nowhere. Biting her lip to contain a slew of resentful curses, Lightning had no choice but to sit down. Once she did, he leaned forward, pressing his elbows against the mahogany and, as promised, started to explain.

"Each country has an elite division of their army called the Guardians. They deal in covert operations like assassinations, for example, and they're identified by a single piece of lighted armor on their left shoulder. Guardians are recognized to which country they serve by their armor being tinted in the colors of their home country's flag. Tenebrae Guardians wear violet-hued armor with yellow stripes. Our Guardians wear black with white. Only one of the other two countries has the Guardian program; their colors are red and blue. Unless Paddra has finally issued the program in their military, I don't recognize your colors."

Lightning nodded slowly, taking in his descriptions and trying to piece them into what she didn't understand. When he mentioned Paddra her chest swelled a little. She hadn't had any doubt after seeing the name "Archylte" in the city that she was on Gran Pulse. His mentioning the ancient city at least guaranteed her location – although even that made little sense to her. And she knew now why the soldiers had reacted the way they did with her. She glanced up at him again. Clearly, he was hoping for some answers in return for the ones he'd given her. She had one more thing she wanted to know before she did that though.

"What were you doing out there tonight?" she asked, the commands of the Tenebrae soldiers whispering back to her.

He paused before replying, something in his eyes shifting; something guarded.

"That was an armory. I was dispatched to take care of it."

Was he one of these elite soldiers then? She hadn't seen the armor he described upon him though. He couldn't be an ordinary soldier – not with those incredible abilities and the skill to slay over a hundred men all on his own. She was just about to open her mouth and ask this more pressing question about his identity but – as if predicting she was about to do that – he issued her an inquiry of his own before she could.

"Now, please, tell me where you come from."

By nature, she hesitated once again. She knew she owed him at least one shred of truth after all he'd done for her. Maybe her answers wouldn't seem as out of place as she feared if she was in fact on Pulse. Would he know about Cocoon and all its cities? She would just have to hope so. She had no choice but to start telling him the truth. She opened her mouth and hesitated, her eyes searching his face. He remained patient. Fists clenching beneath the table, she took a breath and finally answered.

"I…was born in Bodhum."

He said nothing in reply. The only indication that he was even listening was the slight crease across his forehead, brought on by his brows slanting down in consternation. She raised her own eyebrow in response to his look, challenging him to deny that her hometown even existed.

"Bodhum," he repeated, the name coming somewhat unnaturally.

"Yes," she stated.

"The Seaside City?"

"That's right."

His face deepened in thought. Once more, he scanned her, analyzing her from head to toe meticulously, as if he'd missed something. She adopted his previous impassiveness, setting her jaw and looking ahead, fully prepared to defend herself if it came to that. It was quiet for a long time as he observed her, clearly contemplating something. The music from the kitchen had been silenced some time ago and even the wind outside howled less audibly. Faintly, Lightning thought she heard her heart racing. She wasn't sure why. She was far from panicking.

Suddenly, the legs of Noctis's chair moaned mutely against the floor. He unfolded from his seat and, without a word, headed to the doors. Lightning watched him go, stunned to her seat for a moment until he paused and turned back to her.

"You coming?" he asked, looking at her, oddly.

"Where are we going?"

"There's something I think you should see."

Now, it was her turn to look at him strangely. Still distrustful, she rose and followed him. They didn't go far. Turning left out the dining room doors took them to the large room beneath the second floor balcony. Walking through the open double doors revealed the room to be a vast, lavish library and study. Shelves upon shelves of neatly placed books stretched to the high ceilings and wrapped against the oval-shaped walls like a second skin. An old stone fireplace broke the line of books once on the left and a set of French doors, cloaked in black velvet curtains, sat opposite it on the right. The floor was carpeted in a dark and subtle geometric pattern. A desk sat nearest the French doors and plush black furniture was arranged in no particular order around the room. Cozy, Lightning thought.

As they entered, a rolling latter waited to the side of the door. Noctis grabbed it without pause and wheeled it along the shelves, looking up at some of the higher ones in search of something. Lightning couldn't fathom how he could possibly remember where something specific was. There must have been over a thousand books in here! And what dusty old tomes had to do with where she lived, she couldn't imagine.

She watched him closely as he moved, bringing the latter to a stop at the shelves furthest from the door. He quietly climbed to the fifth shelf up, briefly running a finger across the spines before finding the book he was looking for. Lightning slowly crossed the elegant room, having kept a safe distance from him in her mistrust. Now, curiosity was starting to inch its way forward while he swiftly rifled through the pages, knowing exactly which one he was searching for. When he found it, he jumped back to the floor, his feet hardly making a sound as he landed. He glanced up at her as she stared at him, a look of concern on his face.

"Is this where you live?" he asked and turned the book towards her.

She glanced between it and him uncertainly. Then she took it in her own hands and raked her eyes across the letters. A photo of her hometown sat framed on the top of the page. A flaming sunset touched the ocean, igniting it with molten gold; the beach shone brightly against the gentle froth of waves; the boardwalks and small vessel docks stood lazily in the shallows; frozen smiles plastered on bustling tourist's faces. The sight of her home made Lightning's fingers tighten longingly around the leather cover. It had been so long since she'd walked those shores, heard the laughter of the people from all over the world, or wondered if Serah was somewhere frolicking through the sands.

The wave of nostalgia passed as quickly as it had come. Now wasn't the time for sentimentality. She returned her hardened stare to Noctis and made to hand him back the book.

"Yeah. That's Bodhum."

His hands remained at his sides, not taking the book back from her. Instead he continued to look at her with that penetrating, infuriating gaze.

"You should read it," he advised.

She didn't comply at first, glaring at him for the hard time he was giving her about this. Yet, there was something in those clear eyes that cast a shadow of doubt in her mind. She drew the book back and practiced a little bit of patience as she read through the brief synopsis of the chapter beneath the photo.

It read, "Bodhum was a hotspot for many of Cocoon's middle-class citizens. Ideal for surfing, sun-bathing, and sight-seeing, the allure of 'the Seaside City' was nigh on impossible to resist. A year before Cocoon's Fall, the peace was shattered in Bodhum by the unearthing of a Pulse Vestige. This marked the genesis of Cocoon's horrific Purge. In 003 AF, Bodhum was one of the first of Cocoon's cities to colonize on Gran Pulse. For nearly eight centuries, New Bodhum prospered just as successfully as its parent. In 825 AF, tragedy struck the humble city as the massive earth tremors resulting from the Eidolon Wars tore the civilization asunder. The travesty shook the planet, and New Bodhum was remembered for centuries in mourning. Little attention came to the ruins otherwise than it becoming a site for popular folklore and superstition. In 2162 AF, New Bodhum Ruins returned to the public eye after Professor Jeremiah H. Estheim lead an archaeological expedition onto the site, uncovering a variety of ground-breaking artifacts that gave further credibility to the existence of the fabled '6 & 1 l'Cie.' Controversy over the ruins started six years later, shadowing Estheim's findings, as the rising Caelum clan took sudden possession of the land. Theories regarding the catastrophic Estheim VS Caelum case are explored but, no definitive answers have yet been presented. Presently, construction is scheduled on New Bodhum Ruins, funded by the Caelums but, further details regarding the project remain undisclosed."

Lightning was riveted to every word from "003 AF" to the end. Her knuckles were white, clutching the text. "Centuries…ruins…artifacts…_2168 AF_…" There was a disconnect in her ability to process the words. She reread them as if they hadn't made sense the first time, as if they were a foreign language, and she had missed something. But, she knew what it said. She knew it was no lie. With shaking hands, she closed the book and forced herself to read the title on the cover: "The Ancient World: Cocoon's Fall & the Second Generation of Pulse Civilizations." For a few moments, the only thing that registered in her brain was "the Ancient World." It echoed off the walls of her skull, back and forth, and somewhere beneath it, she realized that she was born in "the Ancient World," over two thousand years ago.

She was in the future.

There was a deeper layer to her that wasn't surprised. There had been so many pieces that fit undoubtedly into the unveiled picture. The longer she stared at the cover and the title solidified in her head, the more it threaded everything together. But, where answers came to finish all her questions, a thousand more arose from what she'd read. The tragedy that destroyed New Bodhum – what were the "Eidolon Wars"; the professor that shared Hope's surname – what did that even mean; the "fabled '6 & 1 l'Cie'" – that was her and the others, wasn't it; and the Caelums taking over…

"Caelum…" she whispered, her eyes flashing dangerously up to Noctis, worry apparent on his face.

The space between him and what the book said filled with sudden rage. Her thoughts were in writhing chaos, everything crashing together and splintering into disarray. The only thing that came to make any sense to her was to fight and when this option snapped into focus, she reacted with trigger instinct. She pelted the book at him – he caught it without the slightest flinch – and she drew her gunblade on him, her skin burning and trembling in fury. Just like before, he stared straight past the barrel of the gun, looking at her, and slowly put the book down on the nearest chair, keeping his hands clear.

"Calm down – "

"Shut up!" she bellowed, backing up to the door with the gun trained on him. "I'm not going to stand here and get turned into some kind of lab experiment like one of your other Bodhum fossils!"

"You're overreacting – "

"I said shut up!"

Without thinking, she fired at him, and in that split second before the bullet left the barrel, she prayed it would miss. A sharp "clink" screeched around the room and then, there was silence. Stupefied, she stared at him, eyes wide. He stood, unharmed and unfazed, her bullet rolling gently against the carpet at his feet. The image ran in rapid, repetitive succession against the back of her eyes: the bullet coming to a halt half a foot from his face and bouncing away with a shattering sound. In that slight fraction of impact, a sheen of broken glass appeared between him and the bullet and vanished just as the projectile fell harmlessly away.

A protection spell, she immediately tired to rationalize. She already knew he could use magic. It was just a stupid Protect spell…So, why did she feel like it was more than that? How did she know that he was far more powerful than such a trivial magic trick as that; that he was beyond even the l'Cie magic she'd once known? She suddenly became conscious of his eyes boring into her again. She'd tried to kill him but, he wasn't angry. She'd told him to shut up but, he wasn't offended. Nothing about his expression had altered from its serene and impassive state but, she still turned and ran. Because his eyes weren't that soft, comforting blue anymore; they were blood red.

The first door she slammed into was the only one that was closed, between the stairs and the front door. It swung in immediately upon collision. With a glance, she registered her options: glass wall in front – snowstorm outside; glass door right – leads outside; open corridor left. She charged down the glass hallway, racing the blistering winds on the other side of the transparent wall to the end. Another door. Without stopping, she blundered through it and she was greeted with a small dark landing on the other side, plus a staircase that plunged deep below the earth. Only one way. Blindly, she raced down them. Her only thought was to get away from that room; get away from that book with the incomprehensible truth; get away from Noctis. She didn't know why. She just had to run. Just like before, over two thousand years ago, she had to run from what she couldn't understand.

The black stairs lead her into a labyrinth of abrupt turns and disorienting twists. She stumbled once or twice in the dark, bumping into corners she could barely see and staggering across sudden landings that broke between flights of steps. She couldn't hear anyone chasing after her but, that brought Lightning little comfort. There was no place to go anyway. Warmth spread beneath the bandages on her arm. Her knotted muscles had made the bullet wound bleed again. Still, she didn't lessen her grip on the gunblade, holding on so tight the steel would leave an imprint through her glove and against her palm. It was the only thing she had that she knew; that and the need to move. No way in hell was she letting go.

She didn't know how long she barreled through the dark maze before a dim, blue-hued light finally started to illuminate her way. She wasn't sure where the glow began, having no sense of direction within this black labyrinth. In a daze, she found its source. Around the last corner, the turns finally ended, and she was faced with a long corridor which ended with a distant door. The pale blue glow that dusted the walls and lit her way seeped from around the closed door, beaming out from behind it.

A strange sensation wafted through Lightning, suddenly. A quiet, metallic thrum pulsed against the inside of her skull like a dull throbbing. Her eyes narrowed at the door, noticing a faint, rhythmic surge of the hidden light that matched pace with the sound in her head. Glancing behind her and not trusting that Noctis wasn't pursuing her, Lightning inched her way forward, drawn by the light and hoping it would lead to escape. The nearer she approached the door, however, the hum against her skull grew steadily louder. By the time she was within touching distance, it was almost deafening. Lightning winced at the pressure once but, didn't let it keep her from the possibility of escape. She grabbed the door handle.

Like an electric shock, a cloud of white veiling a host of frantic images bolted up and through her nerves, paralyzing her to the spot.

_A boy...Blood on the floor and in the water. A woman's voice...Etro's voice with a prophecy. And then, a flood of agony…_

With a terrified yelp, Lightning tore her hand free from where it had been held, as if magnetized, to the door. Ripples of pain coursed through her and imprints of the foreign pictures darkened her gaze, piercing painfully into her brain. She heard a loud, metallic clang as her gunblade hit the floor and she drew her hands to her aching head. The sound that beat from the light's pulse now screeched like an alarm through her head, splitting her skull, banging against her teeth, burning her eyes. She tore her fingers against her scalp, as if trying to get it out. When that didn't work, she staggered back, wanting to get away from the door and away from the source of her pain. Her wounded shoulder hit the wall and she screamed at how unbearable the pain became with the added layer of it.

Her knees buckled, feeling as if a thousand tons of lead were crushing her to the floor. She fell back but, landed against something soft. Past the bombardment of stabs and tears in her head, she felt arms around her and a voice talking to her. It was like an echo. Blackness crept in on her vision and she felt her limbs going numb. She felt the ground beneath her legs drop away and felt like she was suspended in an airless void of space. Before the darkness completely consumed her, she caught the faint portrait of his ivory face, his night-black hair, and his soft, open eyes. She fell asleep in peace, faintly recalling that his eyes were blue again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** ...*peers from behind Captain America shield* Please, don't hurt me. I know, I know, it's been - what - like five months! You must all be furious with me! I'm sorry, you guys! The end of my high school career is looming in the very close distance and I've just been distracted with my life. I haven't been able to write _anything_, not even my book! It's horrible!

Gah, so again, thousands of apologies! Seriously, you guys that have been reading and leaving me such thoughtful and critical reviews are just the best. They don't make 'em better than you guys. I know it doesn't seem like it with my slow updating but, your words really inspire me to keep up this story and give every chapter my all. I'll try my best to repay your complete awesomeness by updating more often...key word being "try."

Anyway, really love everyone who's offered such helpful words and support for this story and I hope this chapter was worth the wait for you!


	5. Sober

_V ~ Sober_

She slept dreamlessly, floating in sweet, numbing unconsciousness. When she next awoke, the feeling in her limbs was languid and relaxed. The more she blinked her eyes open and became conscious of the waking world again, the more she realized that she couldn't remember the last time her physical self had felt so content. From fighting the gods of Cocoon, to getting dragged into service to another, there mustn't have been any time for rest. No, that wasn't true, she suddenly realized, as her memory began to reconstruct itself. There was plenty of time; too much time; thousands of year's worth of time!

Lightning bolted upright, vivid portraits of the previous night's events painted across her eyes. Before she could move in reaction to where she was, a door opened to her right, splashing quiet, yellow light across the bed she was laying in. She blinked her eyes impulsively to focus on the shadowed figure in the doorway.

"Noctis?"

"Sadly, no," replied the chirping voice of Katrina, the maid, as she bounced over to her bedside. "You're stuck with me for the next…five minutes or so."

There was a pretty silver tray in her hands, decorated with a couple of covered dishes. As she placed the tray on the table beside her, the sudden remembrance of the dinner she'd been served last night sent an involuntary quiver up her spine and made her mouth tingle in excitement. Katrina must have noticed her longing gaze because she chuckled and lifted the plate covers for her.

"Noct thought I'd have to hold you down and force you to eat. I told him you would kick my ass if I did that so…Glad you're hungry!"

A small scowl began on her brow as the woman related Noctis's orders but, it quickly died when her attention was diverted to the food: glistening, golden egg-yolks cradled in white like spring daisies; crisp, copper layers of breakfast ham; perfect triangles of toast the color of parchment paper. The aroma of coffee was laced with hazelnut, brushing against her nose like a prowling seductress, urging her to start devouring the plates like a reunited lover.

Harsh, winter light flooded the room as Katrina pulled apart the window curtains. Lightning blinked a few times, more intent on the liquid golden eggs melting in her mouth rather than the irritation against her eyes.

"Storm stopped early this morning," the other woman told her. "Sun's shining; in a couple hours the snow might be melted enough to open the front gates!"

The window stared over the pristine white expanse of snow between the building they occupied and the colossal mansion they'd driven by last night. The needle-point spires were already vivid black against the white-gray sky, slick and gleaming with melted ice. Lightning pulled her gaze away to survey the room Katrina was bustling about.

It was fairly large but, not ostentatiously so. The bed she rested in sat on a diagonal angle to the window, the headboard turned adjacent to it. Slate-gray folding doors were built into the opposing wall, presumably entrances to closet space. Off to the right behind her, a door of similar color sat ajar. A glimpse of marble tile hinted at it leading to a bathroom. A large, mahogany dresser stretched along the darkly-painted wall between the bathroom and bedroom doors; a tall oval mirror loomed like a crown above. She noticed her faithful gunblade leaning against the distant vanity, safely slumbering in its holster. The sight of it brought guilty flickers of memory to the front of her skull: of unleashing the icy steel upon Noctis; of a bullet lying un-bloodied at the toes of polished black shoes; of sympathetic scarlet eyes beneath midnight hair. She paused in her consumption of the breakfast to look at Katrina, whom was apparently checking lightbulbs in the various, ornate lamps around the room.

"Um…where is he?" Lightning ventured to ask.

"In a meeting," Katrina answered, intent on a faulty bulb near the closets. "He should be in any minute now. Oh, by the way, he told me to tell you to help yourself to the gym and I've prepared some work-out clothes for ya, should you feel so inclined."

"Gym?"

"Yeah! You look like the kind of girl who works out. Plus, Noct thought you might want to blow off some steam. Apparently, you two got into some kind of argument?"

Inquisitive, jade irises fluttered across Lightning. Although there wasn't the slightest hint of accusation in them or their words, Lightning felt a prying concern in the woman for her employer. She was sure Katrina wouldn't be too pleased if she knew her guest had tried to kill the man last night.

"I'm…sorry," Lightning attempted to apologize.

After sleeping on it for so long, she had accepted that her actions were inappropriately nihilistic. She couldn't even remember why she had become so furious enough to shoot at him. She was angry at the truth – at Etro – for sending her so far beyond her comprehension. Whether Noctis's motives for taking her in were questionable or not, it wasn't her wisest choice to start shooting.

"Hey, no harm, no foul," Kat said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. "No one got hurt so, that's all that matters. If Noct's cool with you, then there's nothing else to it. You're still welcome here."

"You're quick to forgive a stranger," Lightning observed, not buying it for a second.

"I try not to judge," Katrina said, smiling at the other woman. "Plus, you've had quite an ordeal, traveling as far as you have. I think your actions are pretty justified."

Lightning paused in her munching and looked at Kat, incredulously. Noctis had told her? Why the hell did he do that? Who else knew? She didn't want the people here knowing! Was she right to distrust him last night? Were his intentions for her truly malicious? Katrina paused in what she was doing, reading the thoughts passing through her guest's eyes as if she spoke them out loud.

"Hey now, there's no reason to feel scared –"

"I'm not!"

Kat flinched back in wounded surprise at Lightning's sharpness and she regretted yelling at her the same as she did shooting at Noctis. They had seemed like such good people upon first glance. She didn't want to believe they were using her but, she wasn't going to sit there in denial if it was true. Kat straightened a little, not content to submit to Lightning's often unnerving authority.

"Noctis is a good person," she told her, gently. "If you need help, you can trust him. Your 'situation' doesn't leave this house unless _you_ want it to. The only reason he told me is because – like him – I rarely leave here. No one else is going to find out about you from either of us, I promise."

Lightning regarded the maid in cool silence, judging the sincerity of her words. Ordinarily, she wouldn't fall for it but, the two of them had proved their reliability enough for her to want to release her suspicions. They had never tried to harm her. She'd done that on her own. Sighing in frustration, the former l'Cie dragged a hand roughly through her sleep-tousled hair.

"You said there was a gym?" she grumbled.

Maybe "blowing off some steam" really would help clear her head. Kat brightened from her more solemn tone in an instant, leading Lightning to wonder if she was bipolar or something.

"I'll go get you some clothes!"

Happy to be of service, Kat skipped from the room, her long dark hair dancing along behind her. Once she was gone, Lightning resumed eating, her thoughts slowly churning back to life as she chewed. She considered what she would say to Noctis when she saw him. Did "sorry" really make up for attempted murder? She pondered where she would go afterwards. She was still insistent upon going off on her own now that the storm had ceased. Finally, she recalled the last thing she could remember from last night: the strange door at the end of the hall that beat against her skull until she succumbed to unconsciousness. The experience greatly disturbed her. What other secrets was Noctis keeping in this house?

The flickered images she'd seen upon contact with the door toyed with her memory. She'd heard Etro giving a prophecy or a promise, she wasn't sure. The words were muffled in her head. She remembered the vague outline of a boy but, she couldn't make out any features. She was aware that he was in adolescence – sixteen, maybe seventeen years old. Were these images meant for her? Did they have something to do with Etro's "demise?"

By the time she'd finished eating, Katrina had returned with a neat stack of sweats for her. Lightning murmured her thanks and the maid took the empty breakfast tray, leaving the soldier to get changed in privacy. Lightning swung her legs from beneath the sheets, noting for the first time that her boots, gloves, and jacket were across the room on the vanity with her gunblade. It sent a repulsed shudder down her spine, thinking of strangers undressing her. She quickly put it out of her mind and got changed, itching to take her worries and frustrations out on a punching bag. She slipped into the dark gray pants, black sneakers, black tank-top, and slate gray hoodie, comfortably. The clothes were soft and somehow seemed to fit perfectly. They sure knew how to spoil a girl here.

Lightning headed for the door but, not before pausing beside her sleeping gunblade. Why even the slightest thought of bringing it with her crossed her mind after what she'd done, was beyond her. She quickly shook her head in self-disgust and left the weapon behind. As her hand touched the doorknob, the sound of the front double doors downstairs closing – rather loudly – echoed up mutely from beneath her feet. She heard Katrina's voice nearby and feet hurrying up the stairs. She opened her door and peered down the hall, undaunted by the sudden commotion.

A door or two down her right was the top of the staircase where Katrina had paused, her child-like face wrinkled with concern. Not a moment later, Noctis came storming around the corner of the stairwell, brushing past the maid without a second glance and coming Lightning's way. She took swift note of his attire – a slick, neatly tailored black suit – and then of how he was violently in the process of tearing off his tie. His face was steeled in wrathful silence and as he came charging down the hall and past Lightning in her doorway, she thought she caught a glint of reddening in his blue irises. He went down to the door she'd seen him come out of last night. It stuck in the doorframe the same way so he had to throw his shoulder against it for it to open. However, it slammed shut behind him without delay. The impact made the wall tremble.

Lightning was shocked by the quiet display of rage, finding it to be awfully out of place for the character she'd written him as in her head. She looked at Katrina and a terrible, guilty realization struck her thoughts. Was his anger triggered by her own actions against him? Any human being, no matter how calm, had to be mad at the person who tried to kill them. She knew _she_ wouldn't be so forgiving. Katrina caught her glance when she looked up from where she stood, nervously wringing her hands. Lightning was just about to retreat back into the room and tear off the clothes they'd so graciously supplied, throw on her uniform, and run out of the house for good. But, the maid forced on an uneasy smile and approached her to try and explain.

"You'll have to forgive him. That's got nothing to do with either of us. It's personal; family matters. Don't worry about it. Let me show you to the gym!"

"I don't think I – "

"Nonsense! You'll love it. It's got everything you could possibly need to de-stress. Come on!"

Rather unexpectedly (or so Lightning thought), the woman reached out and daintily grasped her arm to tug her off into following her. Her initial instinct against the invasion of her personal space was often to break the other person's nose. Remarkably, with Katrina, that need fell completely obsolete. She liked the maid for no reason other than her frivolity and her fearlessness, as she wasn't intimidated by Lightning's strong demeanor in the slightest. She reminded her a lot of the people she missed. She was tough and teasingly spiteful like Fang; jocose and slightly flippant like Snow; and her smiling kindness reminded her painfully of Serah. She'd spare her the hostility if only for those reasons.

As she was taken downstairs, Lightning couldn't help but glance back once or twice, curiously drawn by Noctis's suppressed rage. It wasn't the first time she chastised herself for being nosy. If what Katrina said was true, then his familial issues were really none of her concern. She looked to where the woman was taking her and instantly grew confused. They were passing through the dining room, which was much brighter and more welcoming with the curtains drawn and the snowy sunlight flooding through. They went straight past the long table, through the swinging doors, and into the kitchen.

"Sorry," Kat said with an embarrassed grin. "The layout's a bit weird. You get used to it if you live here long enough but, it's difficult to explain to guests."

Lightning decided not to agree, instead taking a quick survey of the kitchen as they passed. It seemed so modern in comparison to the primeval elegance of the rest of the house. Manila-tiled walls peered from behind cedar cupboards and shiny cooking machinery. Brass crockery hung from hooks in a neat line on one wall. A dishwasher was humming busily in the corner and a cutting table stood in the center of the room. Dried herbs seemed to dangle from every available space on the walls and from cupboard knobs. Baskets of fresh vegetables and fruits nestled almost decoratively across the counter. And the smell was expectedly divine. Beneath the aromatic perfume of rosemary, basil, cinnamon, etc, Lightning could still make out the faded scent of her breakfast as it was cooked.

Katrina was leading her to a screen door in the back of the kitchen, next to the dishwasher. Glancing up, Lightning caught the black head of a stereo speaker atop the last cupboard to the door. Absently, she tried to recall the beat she'd heard pulsing from this room last night.

"Alright, brace yourself," Kat spoke through her thoughts, her hand on the covered screen. "Cuz baby, it's cold outside."

Lightning didn't much care. Now that the winds had stopped, it couldn't possibly be as brutal as last night. Katrina opened the door and they were greeted with a bitter blast of chilled air. The glare of the sun off the crystal white carpet bruised Lightning's vision. She blinked it back into repair and followed Katrina down a step. To the right just outside the back kitchen door, the entrance to what Lightning could only assume to be a storm cellar lay nestled at the base of the building. Lightning paused and looked on in guarded confusion as the maid pulled open the doors, as if this would lead them to their destination.

"Like I said, it's weird," the woman said, catching Lightning's expression with an embarrassed smile. "We try to fill up all unnecessary space with necessary things. We get bad weather around here but, nothing bad enough to take the house down so, we really didn't need a storm cellar. Instead, Noct had it converted into his own private gym."

"A private gym is a 'necessary thing?'" Lightning asked, finding the concept of having a gym in a storm cellar absolutely absurd.

"Well, it is for Noctis. He kinda _has_ to stay in shape or he probably couldn't do his job right."

Lightning was about to jump on the opportunity to learn more about what Noctis did for a living but, Katrina was already waving her down the stairs, her teeth chattering against the cold. Sighing in reluctance, Lightning slipped past her and down the short stack of stairs into a small pre-entrance area. A metal door sat closed in a wall a couple feet in front of her.

"It's not locked," Katrina said from atop the steps, the heavy cellar doors knocking shut above her. "Go ahead and let yourself in."

Trying not to seem too eager to get in and work to death the stress in her body, Lightning grasped the bulky door handle and hefted it open. She was greeted with a flush of silent, fluorescent light and the indifferent stillness of countless familiar machines.

"Let's see," Kat said, coming up behind her, "You've got your tread mills over there, punching bag's back there, weights all set up over there, and…well, I don't think I have to really tell you what you already know."

An amused smirk touched Lightning's lips at her perception as she surveyed the large room, approvingly. She stepped inside, shrugging off the hoodie and starting to stretch out her arms.

"Have fun!" Kat yipped and had vanished from the doorway before Lightning had the chance to thank her.

As soon as she heard the cellar doors open and close, guaranteeing that she was alone, Lightning released a very audible sigh of simple delight. For this moment, she was going to be selfish and pretend that this room was hers, that she was home and had woken up early to use the training facilities at the Bodhum Guardian Corps. Headquarters, like she did every day. She fell into her routine, stalking along her well-worn route back to the punching bag. She discarded the hoodie on a nearby bench and donned the nearest pair of the bulging, padded gloves, wrapping the Velcro with practiced ease. She faced the black bag, all her knots of frenzied tension crawling up from the pit of her stomach to pierce at the surface of her skin.

She nudged the bag once, feeling its weight. Then, she gave it a decent punch that sent it swinging backwards. When it swung forward, she punched it harder, twice. Gradually, the blows grew in quantity and pace. Soon, the muted gym resounded with the echo of her fists striking the hard, leather hide. Her anger and annoyance spilled into the attacks in controlled intervals, and her list of troubles grew more severe as her punches went on.

She thought of Snow marrying Serah and how she wouldn't, or hadn't, been there for the wedding. She thought of Fang and Vanille, and how they couldn't be there either. She tried to remember when she started walking away and how she'd ended up in the realm of the Goddess. She thought of Etro crossing her stupid heart and of Noctis's stupid old book that made no sense and of that stupid door in the basement…

With a furious snarl, Lightning gave the punching bag a violent kick and watched it swing. She panted, quietly, a glint of sweat broken out across her forehead and her body flushed with heat. She felt the poisonous stress rolling out of her skin like tendrils of smoke. She'd almost forgotten how good it felt.

The sound of footsteps padding behind her suddenly startled Lightning, having been so deep into her rage-channeling. She wasn't surprised though when she turned around and found Noctis standing across the room. He'd appeared like a phantom, slipping so silently through the cellar doors she hadn't even heard them whine open or closed. He blended with the monochromatic subtlety of the machines in his dark-toned sweats and night-black hair. It was almost eerie if not for the gentle coolness of his cerulean eyes.

It was silent between them, save for the lazy click of the strained chain the punching bag rocked upon. All the things she'd milled through over breakfast that morning came racing back into her skull. Her eyes still on him, Lightning quickly raised her fist and stopped the punching bag's swing, the sound distracting her from figuring out what to say. His expression remained neutral, the traces of shadowed fury from before now entirely dissipated. What could she say? "How are you?" "Hi?" "Good morning?" "Sorry I tried to kill you?" Or…

"Are you alright?"

It was his voice that asked, threading over the metallic quiet like a warm blanket. He always managed to get the first word in, she noticed, even when she could see he was considering his words just as carefully as she herself was.

"Great," she finally, curtly, replied, gesturing to the punching bag. "We had a nice long chat and have finally come to an understanding."

The man cracked a smile at her attempt to break the unspoken tension between them with a little levity. Suddenly, he lifted his arm and offered her one of two bottles of water he'd come in with. Goddess, he thought of everything! Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at how spoiled this place was making her feel, she quickly did away with the gloves, courteously leaving them exactly where she found them, before crossing the room and accepting the bottle.

"Thanks," she uttered, cracking it open and taking a long slug.

His head gently sloped forward in a nod before he turned away to adjust the weight on a bar for a bench press beside him. Awkward would be too easy of a word to describe Lightning's feelings at that moment. She tried to jump-start her mouth into saying something else by flushing it out with the water, watching his back while he crouched beside the bench. She wasn't sure why she was so resistant about talking to him. He was quiet but, she knew from last night that once one put the effort in, he could be quite animated. However, she also knew from last night that things couldn't possibly be "okay" between them enough to act casual.

He stood up, slipping out of his own hoodie – similar in style to the one Kat had given her – and proceeded with a set of his own stretches before getting into the work-out. While she couldn't construct the proper sentence to convey her regrets about her actions, there was something much simpler Lightning did manage to say to break the uncomfortable hush between them.

"Need a spotter?"

Noctis paused in his movements and gave her an odd look of surprise. It startled her nerves and she muscled back an embarrassed flush from staining her cheeks. Was that over-stepping or something? Getting too personal? Or did people in the future not do spotting? The weird combination of shock and hesitation in Noctis suddenly melted into a warm, gracious smile.

"Sure," he said but, it wasn't enough to ease Lightning's wounded pride.

"What? No one's ever spotted you before?" she asked, marching over to a conveniently nearby stool and dragging it into position at the head of the bench.

"It's…been awhile," he admitted, slipping down on his back under the bar beneath her. "I'm usually the only one here."

Lightning hadn't meant to imply that he wasn't strong enough to do it on his own – and she doubted he had interpreted her offer that way. As his long, lithe fingers curled around the bar, she wondered why she kept second guessing and over-thinking everything she said to him. She never doubted anything she said to anybody, no matter how harsh she was. Maybe it was because of the bonds forged with the other l'Cie. She'd grown conscious of the feelings in others and had adjusted her frosty shield so as to let her heart show. Maybe she just couldn't pull that shield back into place again.

Lightning deftly helped guide the bar from its rest before sitting back and crossing her arms and legs to critically observe his rhythmic pumping of the iron lift. After a handful of smooth lifts, a lull of content concentration masked over the man's face and Lightning served her purpose in stoic silence. As she counted the easy, languid rhythm in her head, the discomfort she'd initially felt while in his presence began to numb and she slowly let herself relax. There had always been a sense of camaraderie for her when two fighters met off the battlefield.

It was difficult to explain to a civilian, as Serah had often attempted to make her do. When off duty and within the innocuous security of a gym or training arena, all walls between soldiers became transparent. They were bonded with an empathetic wordlessness that could only be broken with voice beneath the clank of mechanized steel or the grunts of sparring. She felt no differently sitting there with Noctis, almost a total stranger. Soldiers gained a human definition that was often, frighteningly, lost once one was put into uniform. Whatever had subconsciously intimidated her about Noctis before just faded away now. She focused more on the soft, measured sound of his breathing while he worked rather than try to guess what he was thinking for the sake of her own survival. Regardless of the effortlessness in which he lifted the heavy weight, a faint brush of sweat gave definition to the scent of his skin which she hadn't been close enough or interested in enough to detect until now. It was a natural muskiness, something that reminded her of the pleasant sharpness of tree bark in winter. She glanced indifferently at the way the muscles of his arms gently rolled with the motion of each press.

_Human_, she thought. _No different than me._

With that thought giving assurances to her previous caution, the words she'd found so hard to say suddenly rolled off her tongue, loosened free from that wall which didn't exist while they sat in that room.

"I'm sorry."

He faltered in his movements and Lightning was quick to lean forward and help him raise the bar back into the rest, like she'd done so many times for the men she spotted in her old squadron. He slid from beneath it and sat up in one fluid motion, his feather soft eyes looking at her with genuine…concern. The cold penetration wasn't there like it had been during their terse dinner conversation. There was a slight, imperceptible pant from the exercise on the ends of his breath as he spoke.

"For what?" he asked.

"What do you mean 'for what?'" she snapped, although there was hardly any hostile vigor in it. "I acted like an idiot last night. I almost killed you. What that book said…it just freaked me out, I blamed it on you, and I'm sorry."

His face remained temperate and open. He looked at her for a moment, waiting to see if she had something else to say before offering a response.

"It's alright," he said, quietly. "It's a lot to process. I should have handled the situation more…tactfully. And I'm sorry I said you were overreacting. You had every right to be upset."

"There's a difference between upset and homicidal," she grumbled.

"Don't worry," Noctis assured her with a polite laugh. "You won't ever have to be concerned about hurting me."

Lightning's eyes narrowed as she looked at him in curiosity, albeit a little challengingly. Whatever powers he possessed, she was eager to learn more about them, just as eager as she was to know every detail about the present time and the centuries of history before it. Just as she was about to open her mouth and ask him about his strange abilities, an unexpected gust of clatter and chatter blew in from the cellar doors. A cacophony of unfamiliar voices flooded through the gym entrance to precede the strangers that appeared. A brief flush of panic slithered through Lightning's previously de-tangled nerves but, it quickly passed into a cool, calculating mask. She couldn't avoid the whole world knowing that she was there. She had no choice but to cover for herself. She cast a momentary glance at Noctis before the group passed through the doorway. He seemed just as surprised by the intrusion – the sound of the opening doors even seemed to startle him for a second.

"Yo, Noct! Keeping warm are ya, buddy?"

The "intruders" came in threes, the first being an obnoxious young blond with a jubilantly loud voice that immediately jolted Lightning back into the past and into unwelcome conversations with an equally boisterous blond idiot. He looked to be about the same age, if not a little younger, than herself. He was a little slimmer than Noctis, with long, rather gangly limbs and a more athletic gait.

The man after him was quite simply a giant. He offered a salute of greeting in Noctis's direction along with a more humble but, equally cordial hello. His voice was deep and booming, rumbling from a massively broad chest. Hard-toned arms bulged from beneath tanned skin and he had a square but, rugged face framed with long, shaggy chocolate hair. Lightning's gaze was drawn to the long scar carved into the side of his face, brushing over his eye. It would have given the man an air of menace if his toothy smile didn't outshine it.

Lastly, the driver from last night's storm, Ignis, trailed behind, looking just as stiff-backed and proper as he had behind the wheel. There was a certain shift in his sharp eyes while within the company of the two men, as if he were in conflict over something – over wanting to break from frame and crack a smile or not. His was the first pair of eyes to take notice of her and whatever wavering uneasiness she just noticed, hardened into the same tone of suspicion he'd regarded her with upon first inspection. She observed him no differently.

Noctis rose from his seat to greet the trio, the way he positioned himself between her and them clearly suggesting he would try to protect her identity as well as he could. The defensive gesture softened her wary posture a little bit.

"I didn't realize you were coming," Noctis said, and even though he was worrying over her, she could tell the touch of pleasure in his voice wasn't false.

"Surprise!" the blond exclaimed, his arms swinging out like their arrival was a huge event.

"Sorry Noct," the big brunet chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "We got stuck over in training last night and the roads are still pretty treacherous to be driving home. Figured we'd drop by and say hi while we wait for them to clear. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. I just wasn't expecting you," Noctis replied, his smile tender and inviting to veil his uneasiness.

"I can see why," Ignis muttered, glaring at Lightning and clearly wanting to shine a spotlight on her (apparently) unwanted presence.

No matter how quietly the man may have uttered the words, he commanded the attention of the other men as if he'd waved a red flag in front of their faces. Noctis visibly bristled as all eyes fell on her and the pleasantries came to a screeching stop. Lightning maintained a cloak of calm, determined to play the situation in her favor. She wouldn't make the same mistakes she had with Noctis. She doubted these strangers would be as forgiving if she did, especially not Ignis. She was on paper-thin ice with him already.

Taking a long, unseen breath, Lightning swept an examining look across the strangers' faces to get a feel of how she should proceed. After the initial surprise of realizing she was there, the brunet donned a broad, open smile that was mixed with what Lightning thought was pride but, she didn't know why. The blond expressed his shock open-mouthed and with bulging eyes before a suggestive smile closed his lips.

_Fantastic_, Lightning thought, not bothering to hide her mounting displeasure for the young man.

Over-confidence was not an attribute Lightning admired and it pulsed off of him like a foul odor. Rolling her eyes, the ex-soldier unfolded from her place on the stool, the movement jump-starting the blond into "action."

"Noct, buddy!" he practically shouted, suddenly swinging a casual arm over the other man's neck, catching both Noctis and Lightning by surprise – she hadn't pegged Noctis as a man who welcomed such open physical contact. "Aren't you gonna introduce us to your new 'friend?'"

Lighting didn't like him. He was annoying and as she observed his arm around Noctis, she felt oddly similar to how she had first viewed Snow's arms around her sister. She found the wide, affectionate gestures to be unnecessarily…possessive. With Snow, it was like Serah was some sort of coveted prize he'd won from Lightning and he was afraid of losing it back to her. Her feelings on the matter of her sister's marriage had considerably changed after their ordeal as l'Cie but, she knew she'd never fully shake that sibling protectiveness. Why she felt the same looking at Noctis and his friend, she would never know. There were just so many parallels to her old life that she craved to return to, she couldn't help but be troubled by them.

"Right," Noctis murmured, uncomfortably shifting beneath the weight on his shoulders, subtly trying to escape. "Um…"

"Now, now, no need to put our poor Noct on the spot like that!"

Suddenly, the tall brunet relieved Noctis of his burden, plucking the blond up by the back of his shirt collar like he was lifting a puppy by the scruff, and safely re-depositing him out of his personal space. The blond gave a couple indignant yelps at being so easily man-handled but, the brunet paid him no mind, his big, gleaming smile zeroed in on Lightning.

"Please, forgive Prompto if he made you feel uncomfortable. The poor kid's socially inept, I'm afraid."

"Hey!"

From behind the elder man's colossal shoulders, Lightning could see the blond's face red with humiliation as he pitifully tried to weave his way back in front. The brunet remained a welcome and steadfast wall between them, shifting from one foot to the other as Prompto tried to get around. It was like a game to the older male. Lightning could see in his face that he was extremely entertained.

"Allow me to give a proper introduction. The name's Gladiolus, resident weapons-master, at your service!"

The man extended a huge, calloused hand towards her, unperturbed by her closed posture with her arms crossed. She glanced at his hand once, quickly deciding whether or not it was wise to use her real name. She easily concluded that if no one had recognized her as one of the rebellious l'Cie that felled Cocoon, no one probably ever would. Besides, one word didn't sum up her identity. She grasped Gladiolus's hand with hers, giving it a firm squeeze that he immediately reciprocated, happy to acknowledge that she was no fair lady.

"Lightning," she said, her hard gaze unwavering as she looked up at him, towering over her.

"Quite a grip you got there, Lightning," Gladiolus chuckled, good-humoredly. "What do you do for a living?"

"How'd you meet my pal Noctis, huh?" Prompto piped up from around Gladiolus, whom in turn jabbed a bulky elbow back into the youth's ribs, silencing him with a pained grunt.

"Excuse us a moment, while I attend to my guest."

Noctis suddenly melted back into the fray of introductions and questionings, strategically placing himself between her and his friends, pressing her discarded hoodie into her palm. He distracted the two men with a leisurely smile and soft-spoken excuses while she slipped her arms through the jacket sleeves. After Gladiolus's aid in escaping Prompto's grip, Lightning had noticed how Noctis had slipped away to safety but, was immediately intercepted by Ignis. The man had taken his younger companion by the arm and led him clear out of earshot of her and the other men. While confronted with Noctis's more amicable and interested friends, Lightning couldn't focus on the interaction between them. However, from her peripheral, she'd made out Ignis's hands moving rapidly with his lips, his head bowed close to Noctis so only he could hear him. She felt frequent, hostile glances turned in her direction while she was subjected to the antics before her but, they were redirected with a stern whisper or a calm head-tilt from Noctis until he finally broke away and came to her rescue.

She felt the tips of his fingers just barely brush against the small of her back, guiding her around the pair like a bodyguard directing a celebrity through a crowd of rabid fans. The instant the gym's doorway was clear in sight, she walked briskly towards it while Noctis covered her rear. Without looking back, she could hear the entourage trailing after them.

"Aw, come on Noct! We were just gettin' t'know each other!"

"Quit your whining, pipsqueak. Give the lady some space, for Etro's sake!"

"My Lord, I must object! Don't forget, you have an important meeting with…"

"I'll be back in five minutes," Noctis said over their combined voices as Lightning hit the steps beneath the outside doors. "Make yourselves at home!"

Lightning stumbled back out into the snow, with Noctis close at her heels. He let the doors flutter shut behind him to bar the way before hurrying her forward and back into the sanctity of the house's kitchen. Lightning released an overdue breath of relief as only silence accompanied them inside.

"I'm sorry about my friends," Noctis said beside her with an exasperated laugh. "They're good men but, sometimes they come off a little strong."

"That's putting it lightly," Lightning agreed, allowing herself a small laugh of her own.

It was quiet again as she took a moment to bask in the hilarity of the little debacle before she faced Noctis again. He was fighting for control over his smile. The character of his friends had quite an effect on him. By the serious and dignified way he carried himself, she never would have expected he got along with such frivolous individuals. Although he'd restrained it for the sake of getting her out of their faster, she could tell they brought out another side to him, one that was more fun and…free. She caught a glimpse of it when they'd first spoken over dinner. Clearing his throat and brushing a hand through his neatly tousled hair, Noctis reined in his composure and looked at her keenly, assuming she'd want to get to the matter of her identity in regards to the men.

"I can't guarantee Ignis won't say he met you last night. If he does, I'll cover for you the best I can. If he doesn't, my best excuse is that you're a distant cousin of Kat's come to visit for the holidays."

"Whatever you think they'll believe," Lightning said with a sigh. "I'm sorry I'm making you keep secrets from your friends but, I appreciate the discretion."

Noctis nodded in acknowledgement before adding, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. I'll help in any way I can to make answering them easier."

Lightning gave him a quizzical look. Even though he'd forgiven her for her rash actions and she was almost certain she'd gotten over her paranoia enough to trust him, she still couldn't help but wonder…

"Why _are_ you helping me?"

She asked it without any touch of accusation. At this point, after all her stress had been relieved, she was just curious. He smiled that passive, petal-soft smile of his that made his blue eyes seem all the more kinder before answering.

"Someone has to. If not me, I hate to say that I doubt anyone left in the city would. If I gave you the impression that I had an ulterior motive then, I apologize. It wasn't my intention. It's not often you meet a time traveler in the middle of a battlefield."

That was Lightning's biggest question that she never had a chance to ask him. What was going on in the city she'd fallen into? Why were there armed gunmen stalking the streets? Just as she was about to steal the opportunity to question him, he stopped her by nodding back to the kitchen door.

"I have to get back to them before they get suspicious. I promise as soon as I'm free, I'll tell you anything you need to know. For now, my best advice to you is to revisit the library. Whatever questions you may have, there's an answer in one of those books."

She pursed her lips to stop herself from blurting out all her questions to him in that moment and instead nodded in understanding. She knew he was right.

"Thanks," she said.

He bowed his head and turned to the screen door.

"If you need anything, yell for Kat. If she for some reason can't help, send her to get me."

He paused with his hand on the door and looked back at her with an encouraging smile.

"Good luck, Lightning."

As he turned back, Lightning suddenly felt her mouth move of its own accord, stopping him again.

"Call me Light. My…friends call me that."

The implications of her words surprised herself even more so than they probably did him. A warmth spread through his eyes as the camaraderie behind issuing her nickname sunk in and whatever he felt was mirrored in herself as he spoke back to her.

"Light. You can call me Noct, if you'd like."

She smiled when he smiled, realizing that everything was settled between them and she could take comfort in the fact that she could whole-heartedly trust him. As he vanished out into the icy terrain, Lightning turned to make her way to the library. With her confidence in Noctis renewed, she was ready to figure out what the hell Etro sent her there for.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hokay! A little better with the update time this chapter around right? ...Maybe? ...No? Okay! Well, I'd give a longer author's note but, it's currently well past midnight and I can't feel my fingers after typing this whole thing up in one sitting. So, I'll keep it short by offering up my endless appreciation for all of you who are reviewing, favoriting, alerting, and offering all this wonderful support for the story. It really means a lot to me and I appreciate your patience for each chapter. A lot of thought goes into them and it makes me happy to see readers not giving up over the wait. Much love to you all! I hope you enjoy this chapter! On to the next for me!


	6. Lost

_VI ~ Lost_

Lightning wasn't intimidated by the vastness of Noctis's library. She'd already resolved that if reading every damn book on those shelves was what would get her answers, she wouldn't hesitate to do so.

It was the first time since she'd fallen into the cold future that she felt completely at ease. Secure in her freshly laundered GC uniform, the ex-soldier strode through the propped open mahogany doors and surveyed the limitless contents of the room. It seemed to be an impressive collection – although Lightning didn't know much about how to judge the value of a book, especially books she shouldn't have been alive to see. She quickly shook away the approaching thoughts of dread, intent on not collapsing into despair again when she finally had the materials at her disposal to find the explanations about the world that she sought.

Lightning stepped across the threshold, turning her face up towards the towering shelves, illuminated by the massive chandelier overhead. They sure had great taste in the future, she thought. The rolling ladder stood to the inside of the door, eager to be sent on its task. She took a rung in hand and dragged it slowly along the shelves. She recalled the steps Noctis had taken there the night before, figuring the easiest place to start was with the bulky encyclopedia he'd already shown her. She brought the ladder to a halt where she thought she remembered him stopping it and slowly started the climb. Her eyes moved carefully over the embossed titles on the spines before she recognized the words she'd been looking for: "The Ancient World: Cocoon's Fall & the Second Generation of Pulse Civilizations."

She made a seat out of the step of the ladder where she'd found the book, drawing the heavy tome into her lap. Her feet planted themselves on the step below, the soldier in her exceptionally satisfied with the high vantage point. She had a great view of the Gothic study and a clear line of sight to the open doors. She would see anyone that might wander in before they saw her. Although she was no longer worried about run-ins with Noctis, she didn't know whether his friends might start scurrying about. She certainly wanted to avoid another confrontation with Ignis.

Feeling that her viewpoint was more than sufficient for such a case, Lightning let herself sit back against the book spines and mentally prepared herself for the information she was about to uncover. The story about Bodhum over the centuries had been harrowing enough. She didn't want to think about what other terrors Noctis's books might have in store for her. She closed her eyes and inhaled, deeply, her thumbs running down the book's edges. When she exhaled, her fingers stopped in a position ready to turn the cover open. Braced for whatever may have befallen her past during her absence, Lightning opened her eyes and looked down at the book, flipping straight to the table of contents.

The encyclopedia was divided into two parts. The first explored the "known events" that led up to the nearly cataclysmic collapse of Cocoon, the Planet in the Sky. It was followed by a compilation of theories regarding the "phenomenon" that prevented the planet from shattering against the floor of Gran Pulse. The section took up a few hundred pages and from a quick scan of the first handful, Lightning found no concrete names or descriptions of the "6 & 1 l'Cie." From the little she bothered to read, she discerned that they had become little more than a myth after a few centuries had passed for the colonists on Gran Pulse. They were a conspiracy theory and some scholars' careers were crippled for even believing that they existed in the first place. "Scientists" had rewritten the events that took place at Eden as a massive mechanical failure, the fal'Cie nothing more than robots to the present generation.

Lightning knew she should have felt relieved that their names had been lost to the passage of time. It would certainly make hiding her identity volumes easier. Regardless, she couldn't help sinking her teeth a little bitterly into her lower lip. The fact that the genesis of this future's history was false cast a doubt upon her that anything else she might read could be misleading as well. She was no historian but, she couldn't understand how one could mistake the liberation of Cocoon from the tyranny of the fal'Cie as "mechanical failure." She shook her head in dismay before skating through the remainder of the section. She was more interested in Section II, anyway.

It listed, alphabetically, all of the major cities and terrains of both Gran Pulse and Cocoon, from both past and present. A glimmer of a smile touched her lips as she scrolled through the names, her eyes lingering in familiarity over those she knew. Oerba was listed and so was Palumpolum. There was a large chapter dedicated to the Yaschas Massif and the Paddra Ruins, which she learned were the foundations of the country named Paddra that Noctis had mentioned. There were many titles she didn't recognize and she didn't have the time or patience to familiarize herself with every empire that had risen or fallen over the course of two thousand years.

She instead focused on the four countries that Noctis had told her about: Tenebrae, Disceterra, Paddra, and the one she was in, which she learned was called Arcadia. She started there.

Arcadia was the youngest of the four countries, once being a major terrain under Paddra control. The territory stated independence from Paddra in 913 AF with little dispute. The name of the new country was derived from the primary expanse of land they claimed as their own called, the Archylte Steppe. The land was coveted by all three of the elder countries and had sparked many a war in the centuries prior to the establishment of Arcadia. The split from Paddra was an earth-shattering development in Gran Pulse's history. The other two countries were outraged and disbelieving that Paddra had so easily relinquished ownership of the steppe, which included the economic and strategic advantage of the underground tunnel city, Mah'habara. Arcadia also laid claim to the village of Oerba, which was considered a place of great spiritual sanctuary but, this claim wasn't made until a hundred years later. To the day, the ease in which Paddra allowed the rise of Arcadia remained a mystery and a highly debated topic among researchers.

Arcadia showed rapid growth and ambition through the next few decades, boldly expanding to un-claimed territories between the three countries, which did little to make Arcadia many allies. The country grew greedier for dominance as the centuries passed. A short war was even waged with their lenient parent. The fight that drew Lightning's attention the most though was that of the present, which was between Arcadia and the distant country of Tenebrae. The two had been locked in conflict for nearly thirty years over the discovery of a rare material called, the Eternal Crystal.

The book provided little information on the Crystal itself, much to Lightning's dismay. The quarrel appeared to be over industrial expansion. The mysterious Crystal had been unearthed in the holy village of Oerba which, by this time, Arcadia had already taken within its borders. Both Arcadia and Tenebrae had excelled at using crystals as a source of energy and advancements in technology for centuries, competing for economic superiority. The Eternal Crystal was apparently the last of them and Tenebrae thirsted to have it for themselves. The competition between them and Arcadia finally broke to violence, triggering the current battle between the two countries that Lightning had gotten caught in.

Her focus was diverted from studying the other regions after the mentioning of the Eternal Crystal. She was oddly consumed with a need to learn more about it in particular. Leaving the encyclopedia open on a lower step of the ladder, Lightning stood, carefully balancing herself, before gripping the shelves and pulling herself along the rows of books again. They were organized alphabetically by title. She figured her best bet was to start in E but, as her search lengthened, it suddenly made more sense to her that there wouldn't be one whole book on one single crystal.

She was about to roll back to the C section when her searching gaze caught on another familiar name, one she hadn't expected to see. She had nearly passed it up and jerked herself to a halt when the vertical letters suddenly registered. Disbelieving, Lightning angled her head to better read the gold title engraved in the brown leather spine: "The Family of Legend: Clan Estheim." She stared at the title for a few seconds, re-reading the name as if she had been reading it wrong the first few times. She repeated it, out loud in the silent library, as if hearing it would somehow affirm for her that it was truly what she thought it was.

"Estheim…"

Tentatively, her fingers dusted over the artfully cracked leather, hesitant to draw it to herself and unravel its contents. Taking another self-supportive breath to collect herself, Lightning gripped the book between forefinger and thumb, and slid it from the ranks like it was a priceless treasure. Unable to tear her eyes away from the cover, Lightning lowered herself back down to the ladder. An entire book about a clan that shared the name of a lost child l'Cie from two millennium ago… Once more, her mind could not fathom what this discovery could mean to her. The weight of a life lived before the history of this world had been recorded, sunk a little deeper down through her shoulders.

She let the book fold open on her lap and turned each slightly aged page with meticulous care. The title of the first chapter twisted her heart in a mix of pain and pride. It read, "Hope for a Future: Estheim's Founding Father."

"It was ten years after the fall of Cocoon," the book read, "that the name Estheim became synonymous with the revolutionary scientific studies and developments of Gran Pulse's Second Generation. An original resident of Cocoon before the fall, esteemed Director of the Academy and Head Adviser for the construction of the capital city of Academia, Hope Estheim made his mark on the scientific world at an extraordinarily young age. As the son of a developer in mechanical sciences, employed in Cocoon's capital city, Eden, Hope Estheim was born into an ideal position for excelling in technologies.

"By 004 AF, Hope had just begun to make a name for himself in academic sciences. Skipping a few years forward in school and going straight for his degree, the young Estheim was ready to join the newly established Academy as one of its youngest members. He would later become the organization's prime Director of studies and went on to lead the Academy to its ultimate glory: the city of Academia. The Shining City marked the start of Pulse's second history, the human race expanding to build more cities and dividing countries over the centuries to come. Academia remains regarded as the 're-birth-place' of Pulse, and the Clan Estheim is one of the oldest family names to have survived since the Cocoonian Generation."

Lightning was riveted to the tale of the Estheims. Name after name after name passed beneath her eyes, all descended from Hope and all paragons of success. The same Hope whom had barely known how to wield a knife when she first met him, had far exceeded any expectations she'd ever had of him. She smiled the first whole-hearted and _happy_ smile since she'd walked out of the past. It was a great comfort to her to know that as she sat there in a stranger's study, somewhere outside there was a man that shared the bloodline of her dear friend. It may have meant nothing. After all, he wasn't Hope and he wouldn't know her if they ever met. Nevertheless, it gave her the vaguest sense that she wasn't so alone in her endeavor; that one of her allies was still beside her, if only in name.

Her heart swelled with unspoken congratulations for Hope's successes, for the marriage to a woman she didn't get to meet, for the children they raised together, and for the great legacy he left behind, thousands of years after his death. She wondered what he would think – if she were to return home – if she told him all that he was destined for. She could hardly comprehend the magnitude of such a lineage herself, no matter how much she continued reading.

The text spoke fondly of each fore-running Estheim that came to acquire great status in Academia. It was many chapters in before she met and lingered upon Jeremiah H. Estheim, and it was only after reading the name a second time that she remembered seeing it before. She glanced down at "the Ancient World" a step beneath her feet. She recalled a Jeremiah H. Estheim was mentioned in regards to the excavation of the New Bodhum Ruins. Sure enough, as she read the sentences that followed the name, they matched and elaborated on the fact written in "the Ancient World."

Jeremiah was first an awarded and respectable professor at the Academy, which had evolved into the largest university in the world, built at the heart of Academia. He taught archaeology and world history, specializing in the studies of ancient Cocoon, a small field of research that received little attention and even less funding for expeditions or equipment. Lightning scowled at the blatant disinterest towards her home world. Why was Cocoon so unimportant to the new residents of Pulse?

She learned that Jeremiah put up a valiant fight to raise money for an expedition to the New Bodhum Ruins, a trip none of his peers supported him on or understood. Scholars and archaeologists had long since given up on the ruins, having discovered little remains of value after the Eidolon Wars had torn the land apart. Jeremiah was adamant though and his efforts did not go un-rewarded. And with a name like Estheim, no one could refuse him when he paid for his team and flew himself out to the haunted place.

They spent months tirelessly chipping away at the ruptured earth and it was only at the end of that year that the laborious task "uncovered gold." The identity of the artifacts remained classified to the public and the biographer expressed his frustration and disappointment at not having access to that information. He went on to throw – rather biased – accusations towards the Caelum clan for denying Estheim's findings to be put on public record. Rumors had circulated at the time that Estheim had just about been ready to unveil his discovery when the Caelums bought out all rights to the excavation site and the professor's research. The sudden seizure had blind-sided the professor and according to the biographer's slim findings, he theorized that the Caelums had been silently setting themselves up, financially, for the take-over since well before Estheim set out.

"Desperate" (as the writer put it) to keep "rightfully deserved" work from being "stolen," Estheim took the Caelums to court. It was just as "catastrophic" as the first book described. The two parties were hardly a day in the court-room when the judge ruled in the Caelums' favor. Once more, the biographer cut into the narrative to offer his own insights in regards to "the conspiracy." He claimed that the Caelums had the judge "in their pocket" and "paid off" as many people possible to paint Estheim in an unfavorable light. He also argued that it was the Caelums themselves that "arranged" for the car accident that killed Jeremiah Estheim a week after his loss.

Lightning pulled herself upright from where she'd been hunched over the text, her heart thumping a little too loudly, she felt, against the deathly quiet of the study. Her jaw locked to keep herself from screaming out loud. The questions just kept piling up to infinitum, just like the flakes of the blizzard collecting against asphalt. It was like the head of the Hydra; each time she cut off one, three more sprouted to snarl down at her.

What was this author implying about Noctis: that he came from some corrupt family that had it in with some criminal underworld to do their bidding and get them everything they wanted? How could he insinuate that they were cold-blooded killers?

Lightning caught herself before she fell into the spiral. She found some blank space on the slip of wall between the shelves opposite her and focused on it until her mind numbed itself down a little. She wasn't going to panic again. She ordered this to herself, successively, until her heartbeat slowed back to its normal pace and she could calmly collect her thoughts. She chided herself that she shouldn't automatically jump to Noctis's defense. After all, no matter how much he'd proven that she could trust him, she still didn't know anything about him. She _wanted_ to trust him but, she couldn't ignore the fact that he never offered up information about himself. He'd told her about the world a little and let her have free access to his library, however, the subject of his own identity had been kept carefully guarded behind his feeding her ignorance about the world to distract her from asking about _him._

She wasn't angry. She convinced herself of that much. She wasn't going to allow herself to jump to conclusions again and risk another attempted murder. She had to know who _exactly_ she was dealing with though, and that she needed to hear from Noctis himself to be sure. With the book of the Estheims in hand and her thoughts in a state of resolve, Lightning made to abandon her perch.

She was stopped, midway risen from her seat, by the sound of three heavy raps, unmistakably from a knocker against a door, that echoed throughout the entire household. The residual pulse reverberated against her eardrums, rather like the ringing shock after a bomb explodes. The study had been so numbingly silent and the noise so unexpectedly bombastic, that her rattled senses came as no surprise to her. She eased back into her seat and looked to the library doors when she heard the rabbit-frantic pace of Noctis's servant girl run by. The groaning of the front doors being pulled open smothered the bothersome echo. Lightning's gaze narrowed, predatorily, when she heard Katrina greet a voice she had yet to hear – a female voice.

"My Lady! We weren't expecting you this early!" she heard Kat say in unconcealed panic.

"Oh! I'm so sorry if the time's inconvenient…"

"No, no, ma'am! Come right in! You must be freezing!"

A slight draft of frosty air whistled past Lightning's ankles as the doors were pushed closed. Her body went rigid as she listened to the passing of pleasantries swell with growing nearness. Yet another encounter with a stranger loomed outside the study's entrance. In a mechanical motion, Lightning set her readings to the side, constructing her cover story in her head and repeating it back to herself before the pair passed over the threshold.

Katrina's casually slouch-ready attire came off as more severe in its unruliness compared to the woman she was directing beside her. She had hair like spun gold, folding over itself in artful layers to softly feather at her shoulders. She was dressed in a flattering, dove-gray pea-coat with matching silk gloves and a scarf of snow-white. Her step was sure-footed, placed in a way of practiced elegance that gave her a great sense of presence. However, her quiet smile lowered that presence with genuine modesty and her silk-smooth words of gratitude towards Kat when she offered to take her coat revealed the woman's humbleness.

Lightning observed these characteristics before the woman ever noticed there were more than two people present in the study. She paused with the unwinding of her scarf when her violet-blue eyes happened across the battle-dressed stranger on the ladder. Her surprise was skillfully veiled, her graceful motions continuing so fluidly that Lightning could hardly recall her faltering. Her thoughts turned unexpectedly when the woman looked at her, not in knee-jerk distrust but, instead with bright-eyed intrigue. And the furthest thing Lightning had expected from a first meeting with any inhabitant of this world was a simply polite word of greeting.

"Good morning," the woman said, with an unchanged smile and cordial nod.

"Morning…" Lightning reciprocated after a contemplative hesitation.

A muffled curse from Katrina didn't draw the attention of either woman, so fixated were they on one another, trying to discern the true nature behind their expressions. Lightning only directed her ears to Katrina when she was introducing the new guest, stepping to the side with a slight bow.

"May I present, Princess Stella Nox Fleuret."

The woman released her gaze on Lightning then to send a pointed look at the maid, saying, "Please, Kat, you must know by now that such formalities aren't required of you."

"Oh, um, certainly, Princess."

She shook her head and returned her now exasperated peach-soft smile to Lightning.

"Well, now that my name's been made no secret," she laughed, kindly, before Katrina hurdled back in to try and run a defense for her rose-haired guest.

"Er…Princess, this is, um…"

"Lightning."

The ex-soldier unfurled from her seat, stepping past the steps between her and the floor, and landing with a poised bounce before crossing the room to meet them. Kat looked a little shocked that she had offered up her real name so readily. Lightning didn't quite understand why it was such a big deal. After all, she didn't even exist as far as the history books were concerned. The princess, Stella, looked a little perplexed by the name.

"Lightning," she repeated. "How strange."

Lightning paused where she was, a few feet between her and them. Her guard flipped up, the comment of her name being out of place catching her completely unawares. She was the first to have said anything about it. She regarded Stella with new wariness, although the princess didn't seem to notice. She shrugged out of her coat at Kat's behest, unveiling the simple white dress and deep violet cardigan she wore beneath.

"I should go find Noctis…" Kat said but, she was clearly hesitant to leave Lightning unattended with the princess, glancing between them like they were two well-kept secrets that were never meant to be exposed to one another.

"Thank you, Katrina," Stella said. "We'll keep each other company in the meantime."

Her tone was dismissive in the gentlest of ways, more unconsciously compelling than cruel. And it worked, having an almost hypnotic effect on Katrina as she scurried off with hardly half a glance back, her worries made completely null. Lightning watched her go. The quicker she found Noctis the better. Meanwhile, she assured herself that she could handle herself with Stella. She looked back to the woman, whom was still smiling in companionable openness at her.

"So, how did you come to know Noctis, Miss Lightning?"

She skipped straight over any further courtesies and onto the interrogation, stepping around Lightning and into the study. A less perceptive person may have mistaken it as an innocent attempt at small talk and she was hardly as abrasive in her curiosity - such as Ignis had been. Still, Lightning recognized her type. Her amicable demeanor was a deceptive technique in the art of questioning. When someone had social status – as she was sure a princess such as herself must have – they harnessed a whole other category of formidable persuasions and crafted words to unlock closed lips. They were bred that way, so much so that it just came naturally after a certain age. Stella seemed nice – for a princess, which Lightning always interpreted as spoiled brats – but, Lightning was sure she was just as hungry for gossip as any other socialite. She couldn't help herself. Where Lightning was from, royalty had served as a mouth-piece and little else. With that in mind, she went about her routine deflection.

"I'm a friend of Katrina's, actually. Just visiting," she said.

"Oh? How long are you visiting for?" Stella asked, half turning back to her as she made a leisurely circuit along the shelves.

"A few days."

"Ah. I wouldn't want to stay in this city that long, either."

She cast a sympathetic smile towards Lightning, one that she wasn't quite sure how to interpret.

"I assume you live out of state?" Stella went on, looping around the plush furniture, the heels of her white boots barely making a whisper against the carpet.

"Yeah…"

Lightning crossed her arms and shifted where she stood so that the piece of armor on her uniform was facing away from Stella's direct line of sight. She could already feel the conversation turning similarly to when Noctis had asked about her place of origin. Stella had glanced at her as if she expected an elaboration. When she realized that Lightning wasn't very conversational, the muted persistence of her inquisition lessened considerably.

"I can tell you think I'm being nosy, berating you with question after question like this," Stella laughed, a little sheepishly. "Forgive me for acting so intrusive. I promise, it's just a reflex."

Lightning remained impassive, troubled that she was unable to get a proper read off of Stella. The blonde frowned at the chilled look of caution she was giving her, hastily trying to mend whatever wound she assumed to have opened.

"It's rare to see new faces around here – with everything that's going on – and it's difficult to be trustful towards strangers, as I'm sure you can understand. Plus, your name sounds so…"

"What's wrong with my name?"

She cut her off there to avoid getting stuck on the current state of affairs. She feared that Stella might have tried speaking deeper about the war and the Tenebrae occupation of an Arcadian city. Although Lightning was more than eager to be enlightened in that respect, she decided to play it safe by re-directing the conversation into – what she hoped – would be a more trivial discussion. Stella resumed her quaint smiling, regardless of the sharpness in Lightning's voice, which clearly indicated her displeasure at having to answer reels of questions.

"I've never met anyone who was name so…explicitly after something else," she tried to explain. "Usually, if someone's named after something already existing in nature, it's masked by some dead language, as if we need to hide our true nature behind a fanciful disguise. Does that make any sense?"

It didn't but, Lightning made sure not to say so. Was the way a person was named really so important? Stella took her silence as her not understanding and her demure smile crooked into that of embarrassment.

"Nevermind. I hope your stay here remains un-disturbed."

All her social graces weren't very endearing to Lightning, although she appreciated her efforts to remain civil over skeptical. All in all, Lightning felt completely indifferent to her. She didn't feel threatened by meeting her but, she didn't feel particularly comfortable with her either. She wondered what business a _princess_ had with Noctis but, knew better than to ask. Her purpose in this world wasn't to study every facet of Noctis's personal life. None of them had anything to do with her mission, other than extending a benevolent hand in her time of need.

Stella's hands clasped together at her waist. She was trying not to stare at Lightning, instead looking awkwardly around the room. She observed its contents with the subdued interest of someone who'd been in there too many times to be baffled by its splendor anymore. Did she stop by often to meet with Noctis, then? Lightning was a little stunned to think that he had regular meetings scheduled with a _princess_. She chalked that onto her never-ending list of questions for him.

The quietness that settled between the two women was stiflingly awkward, although neither of them let their discomfort show. Lightning could easily wait her out in the silence and she intended to do so. Behind Stella's polished mask of complacency, Lightning knew she was fraught with a desire to pry, to decode the intentions concealed behind the new face in front of her. She was too well-trained to force the answers from her though. It would be "un-becoming" of a princess to act rashly. Lightning saw no reason to be intimidated.

Not until Noctis finally arrived.

Oddly, his footsteps traveled down the stairs from the upper floor rather than through the dining room where she expected him to come if leaving the gym-converted pantry. Perhaps he'd been inside already and she hadn't heard him return, so engrossed was she with her readings. He moved with such muteness, she doubted she would have noticed him if he had passed through. She had no difficulty hearing his approach presently though, as he rushed to meet with his waiting guest. Just as always however, there was a characteristic control over the sound of his hurried pace, and even when he passed beneath the slightly arched door-frame, he hardly looked winded from the descent. He was dressed just as casually proper as he had been at dinner with her; comely yet, subtly imposing in his darkness.

He paused a few steps into the study, his cerulean gaze weighing between the two women. Lightning met his deliberating stare when it passed over her, her own eyes un-guarded and assuring that there was no hostility between her and Stella. He turned to the princess then with his cultured smile and a decorous bow.

"My lady," he greeted.

Stella's smile eased into one more affectionate and personal than the society smile she'd been giving Lightning. She curtsied in return, with all the delicate femininity of a faerie dancer, and greeted him in turn.

"Prince Noctis."

At first, the sweet-voiced salute passed inconsequentially through her ears. If not for the flash of slight repellence on Noctis's face when Stella addressed him in the manner that she did, Lightning may have never even given it a second thought. His grimace made it all the more potent though, and her thoughts stalled as she replayed Stella's brief address.

"Prince Noctis," she had said.

For a moment, she couldn't understand herself when she lingered upon the name. What made it any different from how she'd heard everyone else say it?

Then, it hit her, and it stunned her to the spot. In hindsight, it shouldn't have come as such a shock. It made sense: the private car, the grandeur of the house, the luxury of having a servant, the flawless etiquette… It took hearing it from the lips of a princess – a fellow bearer of the title of royalty – for all of the evidence to coalesce.

"Prince Noctis."

_Prince_ Noctis…

Somewhere outside of herself, she was aware of the royal progeny conversing, he asking for "one more moment, please." Then, he was in front of her and his hand on her arm was like an electric bolt that jerked her back to the present. She looked at him, blankly, unsure of the tendrils of thought threading together in her head. The unhindered aggression written in the Estheim book about the Caelums wrapped around the new title. It wasn't criminal deals that secured the victory over Jeremiah – it was political prowess; it was the unquestionable strength of a monarchy.

Overwhelmed was the best word she could use to sum herself up. The transition from being branded the lowest of the low in Cocoonian society – from being hunted down like nothing more than a rabid dog – to falling into the lap of _royalty_ was a staggering adjustment. She hadn't cared much before she'd known the depth of his wealth. To have that huge question of who he really was answered so suddenly and before she was prepared to hear it, made more of an impact than it might have.

Out of nowhere, she saw a rift open between her and him, one torn by a clash of positions. All of a sudden, she was out of place, not just out of time. She was a vagabond in a prince's castle, not a wounded soldier that got lucky in her wanderings. And she was alone. Seeing him and Stella interact, seeing them match each other in refinery, in understanding the roles they each fulfilled, haunted her with memories of her l'Cie brethren. Here, she didn't have that sameness with anyone. She had no fellowship of persecuted rebels, no united minds to achieve a goal of freedom.

She was the last l'Cie. Even without the brand and the burdened Focus that came with it, she was the last person left to ever have been in danger of becoming, or of having been, a l'Cie. She was the last of a race. They were all dead. Over everything else she'd learned that day, the comprehension that she was the absolute last living remnant of Cocoon was the most shattering.

"Lightning?"

She looked back at him. She felt completely detached from the worry in his eyes. She glanced in an after-thought at Stella in the background, a look of apprehension on her pretty face. Her mind was in a fog when she focused again on Noctis, and the words she spoke to him were eerily hollow in her own ears.

"I need some air."

She was halfway to the main doors when she realized her body was acting in accordance with her words. She heard him call out to her. She heard Stella warn her about "catching her death out there." Only when her hands touched the silver bars of the door handles did she hear Noctis coming after her, like he hadn't believed she was really leaving. She stepped out into the cold before he could pull her back in. Her boots crunched in the snow as loudly as crashing glass. Then, she was running and the glass kept crashing to pieces beneath her as she went.

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><p><strong>AN:** Oh God, my hands are cramping. I just power-typed this up in the last two hours. I don't know if I can get everything I wanted to say in this author's note before my fingers fall off!

Well, we'll start with my apologies for the delay in updating again. Being without power for almost two weeks in November because of that super-storm bitch Sandy definitely dampened the muses a bit. Before that, I was a little preoccupied with Halloween preparations and the like. And then, there was Thanksgiving after all the storminess and spookiness and I had a crap-load of other projects that needed writing as well as this one.

That being said, I'm sorry if this chapter was a little uneventful. There were a couple of questions I wanted to get cleared out of the way before moving on and I wanted to introduce Stella now since my window of opportunity was severely narrowing. I'm approaching Stella in the most unbiased way possible, seeing as she's the sole competition for Lightning. If she came off as a little air-headed this chapter, rest assured, her character will be redeemed in her next appearance (which might not be for a few more chapters).

I realized that it's actually more difficult to write Lightning _without_ Noctis. I was having a difficult time with her this time around until the very end when I brought Noctis in. I love writing him; maybe I'm just spoiled.

Since I'm starting to feel a little loopy from staring at the computer screen for so long, I'll just stop myself here.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and by now, I don't think I have to tell you all how much I love you, right? Well, just in case you didn't know, I do. Very much.


	7. Broken

**A/N:** As a lot of you have already guessed, this chapter is the re-vamped version of "A Little Something Like Shakespeare," the oneshot that started it all. You'll probably recognize a lot of the prose and metaphors from the first version but, rest assured that there is a crapload of new material loaded into this chapter. Enjoy!

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><p><em>VII <em>~_ Broken_

She must have sat for hours on the sidewalk bench, shaking against the brutal breath of December. It certainly felt like hours.

She sat alone and she sat confused, silently going over the thoughts that had blundered into her mind and driven her out into the cold. It had just hit her, like a crash-landing air-ship splintering against the earth. The sharp, black building edifices had finally enclosed around her, beating her jumbled speculations into a cruel realization. The Pulse she'd known was forever gone, the creatures she'd once faced were extinct, and the people she'd loved and had fought alongside had long since turned to dust.

They were gone. Even if there was still a chance Fang and Vanille had survived the centuries through crystal stasis, they were, all of them, only memories now; hardly even footnotes in the history of Pulse's colonization. The boastful NORA leader; the fretful and fathering air-pilot; the timid little teenager that had left behind a legacy of kings; the two native Pulsians, as different as night and day but, sisters nonetheless; and Serah, her own beloved sibling, whom she'd torn a planet down to save, were gone – erased from existence. She was the last of them.

It felt colder now than it had been earlier in the day. Somewhere behind the thick blanket of clouds, the sun had taken its light away and left behind the night. The cold was numbing, and she couldn't deny how her vulnerability to the elements stemmed from the irrepressible agony of loss. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have been bothered by it, trained to withstand all extremes as she was. She cursed herself for not thinking to dress in more sensible clothes and for keeping her body so exposed to the harshness of winter. She was a fool for running out like that when she was still far from accustomed to this world's unforgiving climate.

It was just another reminder that this wasn't Bodhum, where the sun always shined and the beaches were always hot. This new Pulse was bitter and ruthless, and no matter what strength she had to resist, it was having its way with her. Trying to focus on staying warm instead of the pain of loneliness, Lightning drew her hands to her lips, breathing white steam clouds onto her frozen knuckles. She knew she couldn't survive out there much longer but, where did she have to go? The only door in the entire world that had opened up for her, she had run away from. How could she go back there after that?

She hated this. She hated how frail she'd allowed herself to become and how she'd let weakness cripple her in that moment, alone on the bench. She hated the goddamn _cold_. The shivering rocked her bones, making her breath come in hoarse shudders that she failed to suppress, despite her best efforts. Everything was colder without them. If she only knew what the Goddess intended of her then, maybe she could envision the final outcome. Maybe she could delude herself into believing that they would all be reunited in the past if she accomplished this mission. That was what Etro had promised, hadn't she? She would be with "the ones she cherished most." Regardless, that vow didn't temper Lightning's doubts but, maybe it was the chill making her delirious that fueled the grudging misgivings roaring in her head.

_So cold_…

...The envelope of warmth came as a shocking, albeit desperately accepted, surprise. The dark fabric fell onto her shoulders like silent, raven's wings, and the hands that laid it there fell away as soon as she grasped and fell into its warm confines. She wished she'd put up more of a fight against accepting it without argument. It seemed like all she'd been since meeting him was in need of his help. She didn't _want_ to be so in need and the fact that she had been nothing but so, filled her with outrage. The dark _prince _of this new Pulse was the only one she had come to respect beneath her protective crust. Even learning the full extent of his influence hadn't dampened her regards for him, no matter that her actions countered that. She was sick of always appearing so weak in front of him. He only ever saw her hurt since they'd met and it was _infuriating_.

No words were spoken as he stalked around the bench and alighted beside her with the soundless grace of a falling shadow. The heat of embarrassment supplied her with even more warmth as she felt his crystalline irises analyze every frantic shudder that passed through her body. She hated him seeing her like this. She hated how he kept on caring for her when she was supposed to be taking care of herself. Why was someone like him going out of his way to help her anyway? What drove someone so regal and powerful to feel obligated to someone so chaotic and reckless as herself? She shouldn't have needed _anyone's_ help. That's why Etro had sent her alone. She was supposed to be stronger than this.

He never ceased to watch her, that precise gaze making certain that his coat was performing as he wanted and providing her with the heat her body desperately required. She was too numb to reject the gesture and her fingers had already instinctively wound into the fabric so tightly, that she doubted if she'd ever be able to pry them off again.

"How did you f-find me?" she asked, failing to steady her voice.

"You're not hard to find," he answered in that quiet, methodical voice she'd already grown so familiar with.

She sent him a side-long glare, far from in the mood to be interpreting his vague replies. He was instantly apologetic, letting his gaze drop down to the snow, indicating the true clue that had lead him to her.

"I followed the footprints."

She gave the ground an unfocused glance, her brain too hectic to really acknowledge it. Just as he said – and just as she would have known if she weren't so freezing – a trail of boot prints lined up to the bench. It would come as no surprise to her if she hadn't stepped off the snow all the way between there and the estate.

She wished she could stop shivering, both for her own sake and for his. He continued to give her that worried stare, completely disregarding his own exposure to the biting air. She noticed that he had changed out of the formal attire he'd come to greet Stella in and was currently garbed in the slick black leather of battle she'd first met him in. If her forethought wasn't the cold, she would have asked why he was expecting a fight but, for now, all she could think of was the bareness of his arms and how he hadn't brought a second coat for himself.

"T-Take it back," she said past her chattering teeth, leaning towards him to insist that he take the coat for himself.

"You need it," he said in a firm voice, ordering rather than suggesting that she keep it. "I've lived here long enough to be used to it."

She'd expected that he wouldn't take it back. That noble sense of chivalry was something she never would have tolerated from any man but, her body was too intent on keeping her warm to allow her to argue much further. Silence resumed as she greedily nestled into the large trench-coat, wrapping it around her like a blanket and surrounding herself with his scent. While she'd caught a faint trace of it when they'd been in the gym, she hadn't really been close enough than when she was in his coat to notice the subtle fragrance. It was musky, under-toned with faint traces of sandalwood mingled with pine. It was a comfort to breathe it in, enough to make her pull her knees to her chest, further ensconcing herself in the herbal perfume. She made it her cocoon, managing to block out the arctic temperature enough to speak coherently.

"Why did you come find me?"

"We're at war. There's no telling what could happen if you're out here on your own. Besides that, you're not fully healed."

There was that worry she didn't want him to have for her again. She was to be no one's burden and yet, that was exactly how she felt, like she was interfering with his time and whatever "royal obligations" came with the title of "prince." She had already put the bullet-wound far out of mind but, he continued to fuss about it when it wasn't even his problem to deal with.

"It's just a cut," she stated.

"You were shot."

"I've had worse."

He was wise to drop the subject. No matter what trust she had gained for the benevolent prince between now and the time he'd saved her, it still came with limitations. She wasn't about to spill her war stories to him just yet – not that he was asking or ever would. So, he moved onto the next matter.

"What scared you?"

Lightning thought that was an odd question. She glanced at him, corral brows narrowed. A stab of guilt pinched through her at seeing his arms still bare. However, the feeling faded when she realized he wasn't trembling and his breath continued to come in small, even wisps. As he said he would be, he was perfectly unbothered by the wintry breeze, gazing forward at nothing in the empty street as he awaited her reply. She didn't know how she was supposed to be replying though.

"You ran away," he started when he noticed her confusion, his own eyes narrowing in thought. "When people run away from my house, it's usually because something inside scared them. So, was it something you read? Did…Stella say something?"

It was Lightning's turn to analyze him now that she was able to think clearer. She noticed that he was tense asking her this. He held his breath in anticipation of her answer. Just as she wasn't ready to tell him much more about herself, there were secrets in his house that he wasn't quite prepared for her to know either. Her mind wandered back to the mysterious door underneath the house that had knocked her into unconsciousness. And her thoughts also skirted the memory of that morning when he'd returned to the house in a fury. Stella's innocent revelation of his title might have been the trigger that had shot her legs forward into running but, it was all the information that had piled up before which had finally made her snap.

"I'm not scared," she insisted, following his stare. "Not of anything."

There was a stretch of silence where he collected and weighed her words before declaring, "You're lying."

Lightning shot him a glare that could skin the shell off of an adamantoise for daring to accuse her. It was met with an intuitive, sideways glance, one she refused to concede to.

"There's something that terrifies you but, it has nothing to do with me, or my house, or this world. You fear something far above everything in the present."

She held his inquisitive stare with one that demanded he leave it alone. Of all the things he didn't ask her, the one thing she wanted to keep to herself, he wouldn't back down from. Deep inside, she believed that she had convinced herself that he was only trying to help. She knew that he saw how torn up she was, and that he was offering to be her confessional went way beyond common generosity. She knew without needing assurances that whatever insecurities she confided in him would not leave the air around that bench. Still, it was bad enough that she kept collapsing in front of him. Telling him her true fears would only degrade her pride even further.

He was just as stubborn as she was though. Additionally, being flustered with cold was blunting her concentration, and the will to deny him access to her feelings was slowly slipping away. She jerked her gaze away from his, curling against the walls of his coat. The unwanted remorse she felt for her long gone home came seeping back, and she could feel the confession wavering upon her lips. Her eyes fell shut, trying to ignore his presence. Speaking to silence was easier than speaking to another person. He seemed to understand this because she felt his eyes leave her, and without any part of him fixed upon her, he was almost like silence itself. So much so, it was enough to make Lightning voice what he had coaxed out of her.

"Everyone I knew," she whispered, seeing their faces in the darkness of her closed eyes. "My friends and my family…have been dead for centuries. It's not like I'll find them here if I look. And I don't know if I'll get to see them again at the end of whatever road I've been put on. I don't even know _why_ I'm on it. I just want answers that don't lead to more questions so I can go home and see them again."

Though the words themselves were few, they were a lot to trust into a man she only half knew. It was draining to have unloaded like that. She could hardly remember the last time she'd entrusted that much into a single person. She only ever confided in Serah like that, and the last time she might have ever done so was long before the beginning of their journey as l'Cie. Thinking of Serah suddenly reminded her that the pocket of silence beside her had a face. Panic flushed through her in knowing that she couldn't take back her confession and lock it safely away again now that it had been said.

She opened her eyes a sliver to look over at Noctis, a mild resentment growing in regards to how he had cracked her shield. That resentment quickly simmered down to nothing when he made no comment. She saw no judgment or intent of any kind cross his features. She didn't know why she thought there would be. He was indifferent to her doubts – completely neutral. He had no cause to use them into manipulating her. His face remained in its thoughtful cast. If there was one thing she had learned with certainty about him, it was that he was always thinking, turning things over in his head and calculating their significance. He had to _know_ things but, not in the selfish sense that he would use that knowledge to further his own gain. She believed it was his desire to use it to help others, just as he'd been trying to help her. The more time she spent with him, the clearer that belief became.

"The book you were reading," he spoke up, speaking slowly as his thoughts continued to churn with the puzzle pieces her arrival presented, "was about the Clan Estheim. Were they one of the friends you miss - an ancestor of Estheim?"

Lightning's lips curved into a proud smile as she answered him, "Not just _an_ ancestor; _the_ ancestor, apparently. Although when I knew him, you never could have predicted he'd come that far."

The stare Noctis set upon her was not one she expected. She met it with a confused crease of her brow, surprised by the amount of awe and reverence that brightened his gaze as he comprehended what she'd said.

"_The_ ancestor, _Hope_ Estheim?"

"Yeah… Why?"

Noctis caught himself then, quickly looking elsewhere and smothering the excited shine in his eyes. She blinked in bewilderment, unfolding from her bundled up ball to place her feet on the ground and lean forward to get a better look at the face he was trying to hide from her.

"_Why_?" she repeated emphatically, needing to know why her knowing Hope when she did was so important.

The apprehension that had risen because of his reaction dissolved when she caught the amazed smile that brushed across his face. She hadn't seen him smile much, other than out of courtesy, and the last time she'd seen his smile so exhilarated as the one at present was that morning when he'd been ambushed by his trio of friends. The one he wore now softened his pale features with an almost boyish wonder. The blue of his eyes was dream-struck as he looked at the snow. It stunned Lightning to see such a guardless expression in comparison to the cultured facade he'd shown her previously. Something in her chest warmed against the chill as she took in this strange smile. The inspired glitter in his far away stare almost made her want to smile too.

"That's just…incredible," he said, voice distant. "The original Estheim…"

There was a moment where she thought she'd lost him to whatever astonished thoughts now steeped his mind. When he pulled himself back to reality, he looked just as stupefied by his own reaction as she. An embarrassed pink dusted his cheeks and for a second, his mortification was laid bare before he could pool his mask over it. His attempt to remain in his cool persona finally drew that smile out of Lightning.

"Sorry," he began, halfway between unexpectedly starstruck and completely under control. "The Estheims are regarded very highly in this time. I'm a great admirer of how much they've achieved – maybe even a little obsessed, I've been told."

This was perhaps the quickest thing Lightning could pick up on and it tendered her smile with a growing fondness. So, he was a bit of a history-nut then. It explained the enviable collection of books in his study and the uncanny ease in which he could recite to her the little he had about the countries' military programs. That wizened touch to his youthful countenance was a direct result of his love for study. Her theory about his desire for knowledge hadn't been far off at all.

An unwelcome shadow suddenly clouded the mood though, one she knew needed addressing no matter how pleased she was to have uncovered this personal passion of his.

"You have a bad way of showing it," she murmured.

His gaze darkened in an instant, not pausing for a second to question the meaning of her words. It made her heart sink a little that he already knew what she was implying without having to ask her to clarify. She hadn't doubted the integrity of the facts she'd read but, she'd been holding out hope that he could somehow – with his keen intellect and smooth tongue – refute that evidence. She knew she shouldn't have hoped so foolishly. The softness of his smile flipped down into a hard frown, like the drawing of a curtain between two scenes of a play. There was a certain menace to that scowl which she hadn't yet seen although, it didn't seem to be directed at her and her accusation. His sights were set far away yet, deep within himself – a difficult expression to read.

"If you're referring to Jeremiah Estheim," he started, a suppressed darkness touching the tone of his voice, "then I don't take responsibility for his fate. I was only a child at the time of that scandal. As far as the blame being tagged to my family name, it's only one in a very long list of our wrongs."

He could hardly restrain the hatred in his voice. The rage she picked up from his speech was deeply seated in years raised on guilt. His was a name stained by the countless sins of the generations before him, a burden that it was plain to see his conscience could hardly bear. But, there was something about it that Lightning couldn't understand, especially in light of the title Stella addressed him with.

"You're a _prince_," she said, trying to drag the hefty pieces together within her own mind. "What you're describing… It's like a…"

"Crime syndicate."

Lightning tried not to look too taken aback. She wasn't sure if it changed over time but, when she was from, one wasn't so ready to admit that they were a mafia son. The way he said it was oddly casual, as if it were just something to shrug off in passing. She guessed he was too used to it to understand why it might come as a shock to someone outside. He turned to her as she sat in her bewildered silence, his smile now mirthless and strained.

"Caelum does mean royalty. I am the next descendent for the throne of the country. But, royalty has two faces. Ours is a bit more corrupted than others."

Lightning weighed the solemnity of his smile. Things slowly came together and into better focus. It wasn't hard to fit him into that role. The haunted look to his considerate eyes matched the guilt that came with such an occupation. The cunning undertone to his persuasion tactics could have been threatening enough to be interpreted into something more perilous. And the ruthlessness in which he went into battle was hardly the character of a prince, raised on principles and pompousness, and taught to wield tact as his weapons over bloodlust. Yet, he had all the trappings of a pampered dignitary just as well as the harshness of a mob son. It worked both ways.

"Do you not trust me anymore?"

The question hung despairingly in the space between them, laden with dread on both sides. On his, weighed the fear of rejection; she could see in the shadows of his eyes that he had met with this impasse countless times before, and that the outcome had rarely rewarded him without spitting condemnations. On her side, Lightning's ever-present anchor of self-preservation sunk deeper and deeper into the sands. She sat back against the bench, turning her eyes heavenward. There was a whisper in her whirling thoughts that wondered if this was one of the challenges Etro had forewarned her she might face. How she chose to answer this question could be a massive turning point in her quest for answers.

It would be easiest to lie, to just say it didn't matter and continue where they left off. It would have worked on anyone…except for him. She knew, based on his character, that false-truths wouldn't work on him. The way he'd seen through her laughable attempt at posing as a modern soldier was proof enough of that. He might not have called her out on this one but, she knew he wouldn't accept it. He certainly wouldn't have kicked her to the curb but, the strain that would pull between them just might make her walk out herself. And he wouldn't stop her.

Lightning closed her eyes to think, a scarce snowflake brushing against her lids. It was an instinct born from her training as a security officer to look scathingly upon criminals. Granted, it wasn't the most prestigious title in law enforcement and didn't see the most action but, it didn't diminish the importance of the oath she'd taken to defend civilians from acts of crime. Maybe if she was less than a soldier, the conflict wouldn't have mattered. But, she was who she was, and the threat of compromising her own morals loomed above her whether she wanted it to or not.

Then, she remembered everything else, and with a mental cringe, she realized her status didn't matter. In hindsight, she wasn't a soldier anymore – not on paper, at least. And if there was someone she was risking disappointing with this betrayal against her solemn vows, it was only herself. Her greatest enemy was her own pride - she'd learned that as a l'Cie. Apparently, she hadn't learned that lesson well enough. Her own words came back to punch her in the face like she had to Snow the first time she'd used them: _"Now you want to forget it all and die right here?"_

She couldn't deny that death was indeed her first result if she gave up on Noctis now and ran. She was stubborn but, not stupid. Chances of surviving on her own were practically non-existent. However, would staying with Noctis, now that she knew who he was, also lessen those chances? How deep did his corruption lay? There was still much his identity didn't answer, like his magical prowess and be-deviled, garnet gaze. Could she continue to trust what she didn't understand?

A piercing sharp memory quickly gave her the answer, and she was furious with herself that she'd ever let herself doubt it. She opened her eyes then, and leaned forward once more. Noctis's frame was rigid with pensiveness, trained by experience to expect the worst outcome. That anxiety quickly melted in light of her next words, read from the haunting memory as it played across the untouched snow before her feet.

"My sister, Serah, was branded by a Pulse fal'Cie. On Cocoon, you were raised to loathe Pulse, told it was a living hell, and any relics of Pulse found on Cocoon were to be expelled from the planet on sight. Serah was chosen by one of those relics, and she hid it from me. She was afraid that I wouldn't accept her if I knew she'd been branded…and she was right. I turned my back on my only family because of my blind hatred for Pulse. By the time I realized my mistake, I was too late to save her. I watched her succumb to crystal stasis as she completed her Focus, and it was only through an act of the gods that I ever got to see her human again.

"If I had trusted my own faith in her instead of my preconceptions about Pulse, maybe everything could have been different… My point is that I learned a label doesn't define a person. Serah didn't change because of that brand; I changed her in my own mind. I don't have the luxury of picking and choosing my allies. Seeing as that I would have died my first day here if I hadn't trusted you, and that I'm still alive today then, yes, I trust you. _Don't_ make me regret it."

His mouth crooked up into a smirk by the end of her speech. She had no qualms about acting bold towards royalty – she had back-talked the damn Primarch of Cocoon, for Etro's sake! This came to him not as an appalling act of defiance but, rather as a refreshing change of pace. She guessed that few strangers had the gall to talk above a whisper in his presence. Her self-confidence, accompanied with the raw emotion of her story, which she entrusted with him to prove her tentative faith in him still stood, seemed to be the most reassuring thing he'd experienced in a long time. Like a great, black panther unfolding from sleep, he rose from beside her.

"I'll make certain to live up to your standards," he said as he turned to her, a trickle of gratefulness in his lapis gaze before it resumed its stillness. "I'll take you back to the estate. You'll get sick if you stay out here any longer."

Suddenly, he presented his hand to her. The relief of warmth was a temptation she was hardly about to reject. The thought of returning to the cozy study tantalized her frosted skin. However, Lightning delayed herself that comfort. His extended hand hovered like an obstacle in front of her, one she wasn't sure she wanted to avoid. It gave her the impression of a man offering a dance to some sophisticated, ballroom lady. It shouldn't have been a big deal; it was just a hand. Still, there had been little to no physical interaction between them – she hadn't even taken his hand when it meant saving her life that first night.

She was intimidated by him. She'd never admit it in words and she could hardly admit it to herself in her head but, she knew that it was true. It wasn't his name that intimidated her nor was it the danger that came with his birthright. What intimidated her the most was his astounding capacity for understanding.

Compassion had always daunted her. It was why she was so harsh with Snow and impatient with Sazh during the Purge. Under the guise of a stone-hearted strategist, Lightning rebelled against sympathy, evident in her tutoring of Hope. After the war against their Focus, Lightning learned that compassion was not a repellent to her because it was a sign of weakness. She repelled it because she envied it.

She had lacked compassion in herself ever since she abandoned Claire at her parents' funeral. When she saw it in others or when it was given to her, she was only reminded of how her failure to understand resulted in her sister's fate.

She stared at the black leather glove waiting, with more patience than she'd ever been given, for her to take it. How did he do it, she wondered? How was he so cool and calm and _kind_? How could he annihilate a hundred men with deadly, headstrong strokes yet, still maintain the grace to offer her a delicate touch?

She stared.

He waited.

The silence pressed on her. The fingers engraved into his jacket twitched with yearning. Slowly, an uncertain hand reached out towards his but, stopped just above it. He did not move, standing like a stone sentinel lest he frighten her away with the slightest hint of movement. Finally, she surrendered to her need for the unexpected comfort he brought her, and the tethers keeping her hand from his snapped.

Like a water lily closing to the night, his fingers gently encased hers. It was a tender hold, something she hadn't expected to feel…or to like. She looked to him once more, finding that coveted compassion in his sky-touched eyes. A smile as soft and pure as lamb's wool caressed his lips. As she had before, Lightning discovered that she really did like that smile. It emphasized the kindred spirit she knew he was keeping hidden beneath all his duties and expectations. It suited him much better than his tortured frown.

"I will help you," he murmured, like he was asking permission to do so. "As far as it is in my power to do, I'll help you through this."

With the slightest addition of pressure, he guided her to her feet, she still clutching his coat around her. His kindness continued to overwhelm her. It had from the very start. He contradicted all of her ideas about aristocracy and the underworld. He was probably the most difficult man she'd ever met and yet, the easiest she'd ever been near.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded, heels of her boots pressed into the snow. Like a breeze pulling ripples across a lake surface, he tugged her away from the bench. She shuffled forward in the snow and his weightless grip began to lax. As instinctively as she had clutched his coat, she squeezed his hand to stop its release. An unbearable, alien urge for the security of his touch kept her holding on. The return gesture froze him for a second and his dark brows furrowed in confusion.

"Noctis," she said, the darkly alluring name tingling across her tongue.

He nodded for her to go on. Like the smile he'd let flicker across his face as she accepted his hand, Lightning let a rare smile, like the opening of blossom petals, bloom across her own lips.

"Thank you."

He smiled again, that innocent smile that brought out his boyish features and complimented his selfless nature. She thought she might like to see more of that smile.

"Let's get you home."

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><p><strong>AN:** I give up with the excuses for why this story takes so long. There's really none, other than that I have frequent bouts of writing crises where I hate everything that comes out of my pen and go months leaving my notebooks under the bed while I silently seethe away and waste my time on the internet above them. However, a long sought-after day in the sun did my brain some good (I think my problem was that I was going stir-crazy from being cooped up by the extended winter). At any rate, I've been feeling better about writing and really want to get some of my projects done... God only knows how long that conviction will last.

As always, the reviews, the faves, the alerts, and the overall support for this story has brought me to guilt-ridden tears because I wish I could be a prompter writer for you guys. Your kind words and patience deserve a much better reward than months between updates. The only assurances I can give you that I do appreciate every last word you guys leave is that I am trying my damnedest to find the eternal cure for writer's block and keep powering on!

If you're still hanging onto this story with me, then thank you! As always, I hope the chapter was satisfying. Leave me your questions, comments, criticisms, or concerns in the review box if you have the time. And thanks again.

PS: I know a lot of you are eager to see perspectives switched from Lightning to Noctis and I think I can safely say your wishes might be granted next chapter. Stay awesome!


	8. Walking With Strangers

_VIII ~ Walking With Strangers_

Lightning looked well-rested next he saw her, and Noctis was relieved. Despite her assurances that his true identity didn't trouble her, Noctis couldn't quell that wagging finger of insecurity which feared she might lose sleep over it. Soldier that she was, he knew that sleeping in what she might consider to be "enemy territory" was condemnable, practically by death. However, his anxieties were put to bed as he came down the stairs that morning, finding her razor-eyed and ready to go, waiting by the front doors.

After last night's "incident," Noctis was disgusted with himself for not better tending to the needs of his guest. If he'd invited her to stay long-term, he should have had the good sense to acquire her a wardrobe better suited to the season. Winters on Gran Pulse were long and harsh, even harsher these past few years with the accompaniment of the war. After learning of her origins in Bodhum, it made all the more sense to him why her uniform was designed the way it was but, she was a long way from home.

He had vowed to help her through her mysterious endeavor – which he still knew little to nothing about – and his first mission towards doing so was making sure she was outfitted properly and practically. He'd had Kat provide the woman with some warmer clothes for their outing, and after some adamant insistence against her refusals, she finally conceded to accepting them. Lightning was completely opposed to his quest for buying her new clothes, and even though he was certain she'd argue with him the whole way to the markets, he would not be deterred. He wasn't going to risk her getting hypothermia on account of his negligence.

She looked just about as unhappy as he'd expected she would be, arms crossed and posture rigid in the foreign outfit. He was relieved that the blue jeans and belted coat fit her, and that she seemed comfortable in them as far as size went. That remained his primary concern – that given his questionable seat of power and her strange circumstances, she remain as at ease in his house as he could make her.

Lightning cut a glare his way as he approached, and he countered with his unaffected smile, saying, "Ready to go?"

"It's not like you're giving me a choice."

"None," he confirmed, before turning to call back up the stairs. "Kat! Sure you don't want to come?"

The response from somewhere up above came as a slightly maniacal, "I'm on the second to last boss and there's no save in between!"

Rolling his eyes, Noctis turned back to Lightning, finding her occupying herself by gazing idly at the vase of dead flowers on the nearby table.

"Did live flowers go out of style in the past hundred years?" she asked, trying to distract from their leaving as much as possible.

"I'm a very poor gardener," he joked, pushing open the doors and gesturing for her to go ahead.

For a moment, she looked as if she wouldn't move, lest he get a bull-dozer and force her to – and he wasn't above doing so if that was what it would take. She glared at him with a force that would have surely skewered a less stubborn man. She was by far the greatest test of his learned patience yet, immovable from her pre-established decisions. He had known many women in his life – all of which were "best-suited for his future" and easy to convince otherwise – but, Lightning was unlike any of them. And he loved it.

When it became clear that Noctis wouldn't budge and that the only thing Lightning was accomplishing was letting in the cold air, the woman gave a defeated sigh and marched outside. Noctis tried not to feel too proud about the little victory.

The sun was out again, sitting decoratively in the white-gray sky and hardly choking out enough heat to just start melting the snow. The banks rested just as thickly on the ground as the days prior, slick with a thin sheen of ice. Noctis gave it a darkened glance as he followed Lightning, silently hoping that the dense shroud might delay the Tenebraen advance. The winter storms had done both sides a great disservice, freezing the bolts of their war machines and condemning their soldiers to disease-ridden bed-rest. The night of his dispatch to the armory was the most severe blizzard they'd fought yet. If he and Lightning had barely made it home that night, he could only imagine what Tenebrae's encampments looked like.

When they reached the courtyard at the end of the drive, Lightning paused to await directions. Since the night she'd arrived, the paths had been cleared free to reveal multiple routes for traversing the property. The stone-work was blackened with moisture, veining through the white plains like the long legs of a spider. He guided her to the right-most path, saying, "The garages are this way."

His words, however, were lost beneath a sudden, approaching hum that steadily grew louder and louder until it overtook them entirely. It had started far behind the house, at the back entrance to the property, and the mechanical roar made a crescendo as it sped around the looping drive to screech to a stop in the courtyard, only inches away from them.

The slim black sports car purred in greeting, the rumbling engine sending tremors through the stone at their feet. When the tinted window glided down, Noctis wasn't surprised in the least bit to see Prompto's blond head pop out.

"Whaddup, Noct-buddy?" the man shouted over the blasting rock music pounding from the car's speakers.

From the corner of his eye, Noctis saw Lightning bristle against the loudness, fingers digging into the arm of her coat to keep them from committing some violence towards the man in order to shut him up. Noctis wasn't unaware of how intolerable his friend could be to some – he'd listened to Ignis's complaints enough to know that – however, the prince continually held out hope that Prompto's insatiable optimism would one day win them over, as it did him. Lightning's manner of dislike towards him was different than most others' though. When they'd met the previous day, she'd regarded him with an odd look of recognition, like he resembled some ghost from her veiled past. Her reaction intrigued Noctis. The most he knew of her acquaintances was that she'd had a sister named Serah and was familiar with the founding father of the second generation Estheims. The latter revelation had floored Noctis, and his mind was still reeling with it. If she had known _the_ Estheim, what other legends had she met that could possibly mirror Prompto, the commonest of the commoners?

"Headin' out on a date or somethin'?" the blond asked at present, grinning from ear to ear.

With a considerable exertion of self-control, Noctis suppressed the heat which threatened to color his face. Prompto's unfiltered comments were one of the glaring reminders of why he was found to be so infuriating. Embarrassing moments like these often begged Noctis the question of why he kept the kid around at all. He was about to open his mouth to dispute the outrageous claim but, the sharp and vengeful voice of Lightning made the words choke in his throat.

"Why? You jealous?"

Prompto doubled over on the steering wheel with laughter, prompted more by the stricken look on Noctis's face than anything else. When Noctis looked at her, mortified at the suggestion, she met him with a sideways glance that had the sting of a poison-tipped dagger. He wondered if it had really been such a good idea to defy her wishes. Ducking his face below the up-turned collar of his jacket, Noctis better acquainted himself with the cracks between the stone-work while Prompto composed himself.

"Noct, she's a keeper!"

"She's standing right here," Lightning mumbled, loathe to be referred to in the third person but, Prompto babbled on without hearing her.

"Where're you headed?"

The more questions he asked, the smaller Noctis felt himself getting. What was Prompto even doing there anyway? The last time he'd hijacked one of his cars, Ignis had new, state-of-the-art locks installed, all of which were branded as "impenetrable." Well, he sure as hell smelled a refund in the near future. It was a mistake not to offer Prompto an answer himself because Lightning stepped forward then to drive the knife even deeper.

"Shopping," she told him. "Since that's _every_ girl's idea of a perfect date."

She rolled her eyes to fix them again on Noctis, shoveling even more coal into the fire that was burning in his cheeks. Prompto tried to cover up a snicker and doused it when Noctis sent him a wrathful glare.

"Need a lift, then?" he asked instead, jerking his thumb to the back seats.

"No," Noctis said, pressing as much of his trained authority into it as he could manage in his flustered state.

He went to move around the vehicle, hoping to retain at least _some_ of his dignity if he could only get away from him. However, if Prompto was anything, he was persistent, putting his foot on the gas pedal and lurching forward to block the man's way. The look he got in response was so hot with fury it could have melted the skin off his skinny little bones.

"Pleeeease?" the blond begged.

"No."

_Vroom, skritch_. Prompto hit the gas and then the brakes to block Noctis's second attempt at escape.

"Come oooon!"

"Stop it."

_Vroom, skritch._

"Nooooct!"

"_No!_"

_Vroom, skritch._

Noctis stopped right there, seeing that this argument was getting nowhere and that the dignity he'd sought to preserve was on the brink of extinction, if not dead already. Lightning's subdued laughter behind him let him know that it had been put in its grave a long time ago. If not for the second growling voice of an engine, Noctis might have summoned up a sword and decapitated Prompto right then and there. Luckily for the latter, Noctis's aversion to all manner of reprimanding outweighed his need for vengeance. He could already recognize Ignis's slim form on the approaching motorcycle, with Gladiolus at the wheel, in pursuit of the stolen car. Threatened with hearing about why taking Lightning to the city limits was an "idiotic notion," Noctis finally surrendered.

"Fine, you win," he quickly said to Prompto, surprising the blond with the sudden change of heart.

Turning around, he saw that Lightning was just as confused and she didn't have a second at all to protest before he opened the back door, tugging her inside. He slid into the next seat after her, door slamming in his haste, and threw Prompto an order of barely suppressed desperation.

"Drive!"

As Prompto turned back to face front from giving Noctis a puzzled stare, he caught the image of his friend's distress in the rear-view mirror. A burst of mutual panic struck his freckled face and drove his foot down on the gas pedal. The following swerve towards escape sent Noctis toppling into Lightning, the impact emitting a startled grunt from the woman. Noctis immediately righted himself once Prompto completed the turn, only to be thrown back into the plush leather seat as the result of another surge to speed away onto the road. Outside Lightning's window, he glimpsed their pursuers whisking past them in the other direction, unable to brake soon enough to try barricading their way. When gravity allowed, Noctis turned to look out the back window where the motorcycle came screaming to a halt, leaving a scar of dark tire marks against the icy cobblestones. While he couldn't see Ignis's face beneath his helmet, the aggressive gestures of his arms, directing Gladiolus to "go after them," clearly summarized his fury.

Noctis would never deny how important Ignis was to him, and that he'd saved his life on more than one occasion with his cool-headed rationality, was a debt he'd always be willing to pay. However, his freedom to live as he pleased and with whomever he pleased would not be used as currency for that debt. He could chase after him all he wanted, thinking he would one day concede to that price but, he was never going to catch it.

Much to his dismay, Gladiolus couldn't summon up enough courage to argue with Ignis and turned the bike after the car, the drum of the engine muted beneath the pounding drums of Prompto's music. Before his head exploded, Noctis pulled himself up and reached between the front seats to lower the noise to a more ear-friendly octave, against the driver's childish complaints. When he sat back, he already felt the weight of fatigue pressing into his skin. He'd prepared himself for the dangers that might have met them to get out of the city, and he'd prepared himself for the difficulties Lightning might give him once they reached their destination. The madness and headaches that came with his motley group of friends was not something he'd properly equipped himself against.

He turned his head towards his stalwart companion, ready to read her the standard-issue apology on behalf of the other men. He paused when his eyes were drawn towards the subtle motions of her fingers against her right arm. They moved in slow, absent circles, her eyes looking unhappily out of the car window - he didn't know if she even realized she was doing it. Noctis had hardly forgotten the gunshot wound that had decided whether she accepted his help or not. He'd restrained himself from constantly asking her about it so as to avoid insulting her pride, and had to catch himself from staring at it to assure himself that it was healing. Worry heated his glance now as he watched her nurse the area beneath her sleeve. Did it reopen when he jostled her into the car? When he'd grabbed her arm to pull her in, had he accidentally latched onto the wound in his haste?

Her slender, corral brows creased suddenly, feeling him watching, and her gaze slid sideways to meet his. He didn't bother with turning away this time, not when her subconscious seemed to be aligned with his concern. Since he'd noticed her silent ministrations, her attention was brought to them as well, proving his assumption that she wasn't aware of the afflicted area being affected. Her fingers quickly stopped and she crossed her other arm over her chest, assuming her default, closed-up position. The quick switch of her eyes back to the snow-capped skyscrapers beyond the window was answer enough to what Noctis sought to ask.

Was she alright?

Of course. She was fine. Now, quit fussing.

Noctis settled back in his seat, letting her alone but, his concerns would never fully be assuaged, no matter how much she insisted that there was no need for them. He understood why she didn't want them, as he was exactly the same way. They knew when they were hurt badly enough to need help, and most of the injuries they sustained were not such cases. Noctis respected her greatly for that independence and her ability to maintain it. However, despite his best efforts, he couldn't quite contain his troubled glances each time the gunshot wound showed signs of hurting her.

Perhaps it was because she was such a special case: a time-traveler from an age he'd only ever lived through on paper. Perhaps it was his "obsession" with history that kept him wanting to protect her. Maybe it was him being selfish because he wanted to learn as much as he could from her before the complexities of time took her away from him.

There was something in her manner that convinced him of her time here being limited. He didn't think she knew just how much time she had herself though. Her face was often pensive and calculating, with a desire to keep moving, and quickly. There was something she had to do here. He knew the second he saw her, behind the barrel of her bladed gun, that her arrival was far from coincidental. He caught it in her eyes – her beguiling and battle-seen blue eyes – regardless of how well she kept them closed from her emotions.

She was a creature of pure instinct and action. Nothing she did was without a motive to accomplish some strategic advance. A soldier to her every last cell, she lived only to fight. But, it wasn't an arrogant need for bloodlust that triggered her bullets – not like the brash, single-minded young men he'd visited at the Arcadian Army's camps. She had purpose, which was something he hadn't seen in the eyes of a soldier for far too long. There was a deep-seated resolve in her that kept her going, that kept her flying through the battlefield with her acute footwork and precise aim.

He wished he knew what it was. He wanted to know her, so much more than she wanted herself to be known but, he couldn't force her to tell him anything she didn't want to tell. The instances in which he had gained information from her – such as the near fatal dinner on the first night – had been under-handed on his part, and he'd vowed never to try deceiving her in that way again. She deserved better than his mafia-taught trickery and she required much more tact when it came to sharing intel.

The moment where he'd shown her the truth about Bodhum continued to haunt Noctis. He should have waited to tell her. He should have let her rest first and given her time to calm down after he'd rattled her at the dinner table. Maybe then, he wouldn't have sent her running. Maybe then, she wouldn't have gotten hurt by the precious secret hidden beneath his house. The strange occurrence had not stopped tormenting Noctis's mind. Nothing like what had happened to Lightning had ever happened before. People had come close to the locked door many times. Intruders, traitors, and thieves had all tried prying it open before he descended upon them. None had ever been sent reeling backwards from contact with the door. None had ever collapsed in such pain as she had.

He realized then that it was this incident which truly fueled his protectiveness of her. When her back had hit his chest as she crumbled to the floor, a bolt of pure, uncensored fear had struck Noctis, such as he had never experienced before. That his secrets had struck out without his control and had hurt someone who was innocent in this war, had shaken him, terribly. He'd never formed any illusions about the dangers of the Caelums' power but, he'd made abundant excuses for it, especially when it benefited their cause. That night had severely dislodged his beliefs and reminded him with a fierce terror that no matter how long he'd been its servant, there was still much he didn't understand about his powers.

He'd been apprehensive, waiting for Lightning to confront him about it. He knew it was on her mind, among a million other things. He didn't know what she was waiting for, unless she expected to uncover it for herself, assuming he wouldn't tell her if she asked. He told himself that he would answer truthfully but, if the moment came where she did ask, he couldn't predict if he would abide by that promise. The secret kept behind that door had remained unspoken for so long that he doubted he even had the ability to speak of it aloud.

Prompto distracted him from his churning thoughts once or twice during the long drive, trying to pry out of him anything he could about Lightning, as she was far from forthcoming. Noctis dodged the interrogation with ease, utilizing a decade's worth of avoiding pushy reporters and gossiping socialites to keep him at bay. If Lightning appreciated his discretion, she didn't let it show. She was still mad at him after all, and her forgiveness didn't come cheap.

Slowly, the titanic, corporate towers of the city thinned, and they were driving through open country. The sparsely covered hills were gilded silver by the snowfall, their banks rippling with a crystalline shimmer beneath the sun. When he got the chance to glance away from Prompto, Noctis caught a strange look of wistful recognition in Lightning's eyes as she watched the snowy hills drift by. He was drawn to that look, whenever it appeared, and craved to know what she connected the things in his world to from hers. His thoughts searched back through every locale he'd ever read about on Cocoon, trying to match up the scene with a forgotten landscape but, he couldn't. It only made him wonder even more at what marvels she must have seen – maybe some that history had never recorded.

The look hardened her gaze even more as they approached the long bridge that crossed the Titanian Chasm, a huge split in the earth that defined Arcadia's territory borders. Lightning leaned nearer to the window, eyes narrowing as she peered down the deep crevice racing beneath them. This place she definitely seemed to know although, her inspection gleaned new and unexpected details that they were about to explore. Prompto slowed as they reached the other side of the bridge and bore left onto an unpaved path that dove steeply down along the cliff-side. The car brakes strained against the severe push of gravity as they crept down along the rocky path. Looking down at the road's narrowness, it was a miracle they didn't plummet to their deaths.

Their perilous descent ended far above the cliff's base, as they pulled onto a smoothed outcropping, extending from the mouth of a tunnel carved out of the mountainside. When Prompto parked and exited the vehicle with Noctis, Lightning looked the most confused she had since arriving in Arcadia. Still, if she'd learned anything about how to navigate this world, it was to just accept its strangeness and not bother to argue it.

Set up just within the lip of the cave was a tent-covered merchant's outpost. Wooden cases and tables proudly sported the seller's wares in the morning light, ranging from random baubles to beautiful bracelets, and even a little battle-gear. All along the cliff-face, little shops such as these were set up, pouring from each crevice and cavern with an endless variety of items to purchase. Above, below, and across the canyon, businesses were lively with buying and bartering. Anything from clothes, crockery, carpets, or quilts were exchanging hands. Voices echoed back and forth between the canyon walls: merchants shouting out discounts, buyers laughing as they tested the reliability of pending purchases… It was everything Noctis's beloved city was supposed to be – and had been.

Lightning seemed to realize this as well the longer she scanned the great, cavernous bazaar. Arcadia had been empty upon her arrival, any hope of a single shred of life left haphazardly tossed in closed up shops on ghost-town streets. Noctis wondered if – despite how odd the set-up – this sense of community was the most "normal" thing she'd seen since coming to the future.

Noctis would have explained the genesis of the marketplace right then and there but, he hadn't forgotten that they'd been tailed all the way from the city. He heard the motorcycle wheels crunch over the pebbled lot behind him and the motor hum into silence. Prompto looked fearfully over his shoulder, a complete contrast to the challenging expression Lightning sent to the dismounting pair. Sighing in dismay at the unavoidable conflict, Noctis drew the attention of his getaway crew by withdrawing some large bills from his wallet. He pressed them into Lightning's unwilling palm and told Prompto – very strictly so that he didn't deviate to another sale on retro video games – to "show her where to find some good clothes."

A look of total and abrupt devastation thundered across Lightning's face when she realized the implication of his words. And a look of total, puppy-love delight sparkled across Prompto's. He was abandoning her to the adoring and noisy clutches of a blond boy she couldn't stand – for Etro only knew what reason. When Prompto's fingers curled around her wrist, Noctis could have sworn he heard a telepathic, "You traitor," before she was whisked away.

"I'll catch up with you in a minute," he tried to assure her but, she was stiff as cactuar skin in Prompto's grasp.

"Aye, aye, Boss!" the gunman yapped, and they vanished into the twisting tunnels of vendors.

"Hoh, man, she's going to devour the poor kid, Noct!"

He smiled at Gladiolus's genial manner, despite the circumstances, and kindly asked him, "Make sure he comes back with all his teeth?"

"You got it, kiddo. Hope she won't take out mine!"

The sword-smith gave Noctis's shoulder a rough squeeze, silently wishing him the best of luck with the incoming lecture. His lopsided grin didn't betray his dislike towards being made into their opponent by chasing them down like fugitives but, Noctis knew better. And he was sure Ignis knew better as well but, he was too stubborn to apologize. Keeping his feelings to himself – as he always did – Gladiolus stalked after the pair before one of them got hurt, and left Noctis to his doom. The prince took a moment to line up his rebuttals then, finally turned to face his indefatigable tactician.

The man stood like a rubber-band just before the point of breaking. His expression was taut with frustration and his posture wound tightly to keep his unsettled anger from exploding outwards. Noctis didn't try to re-route his directed fury, as was his usual strategy. Instead, he let his arms hang loosely at his sides and left himself open for the barrage of objections. That was all the permission Ignis needed to let himself unhinge.

"Why are you indulging this woman?"

"It's not 'indulging,' it's simply exercising common sense."

"'_Common sense_?' Common sense would be to keep her as far away from you as possible. You don't even know who she is!"

"You're the only one who says that I don't. You can learn a lot from _talking_ to people, Ignis, instead of making all these miscalculated assumptions first."

"So she's talking to you now? And you don't think that's the least bit suspicious? That she only talks to the crown prince of the Caelum dynasty, Guardian of all their secrets? Noct, you've been seduced by spies before. When are you going to learn?"

"She's not a spy."

"You're so sure of that?"

"Yes - "

"Then _what_ is she?"

Ignis's voice had continued to rise as the argument progressed until he finally snapped and barked this last question at Noctis. The volume drew a concerned glance from the solitary merchant at the front of the cave. The look reminded Ignis of the importance of self-restraint, and he reined himself back in with a sharp pinch to the bridge of his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head from side to side, before asking in a low voice,

"Why are you keeping this woman's secrets?"

Noctis wasn't surprised by the revelation that Ignis knew he was more familiar with Lightning than he let on. The man wasn't ignorant and he was smart enough to know Noctis wasn't either. They each stopped trusting strangers after the deception which had started the war. That Noctis had let one of those strangers into his home – and one with battle prowess no less, which gave even more support to Ignis's theory that she was a trained assassin – baffled and disturbed the bespectacled brunet. If Noctis were an idiot, Ignis would have assumed that Lightning was doing nothing more than playing him for a fool. But, Noctis _wasn't_ an idiot so, there had to be more to this relationship than just bad judgment.

Noctis resigned himself to silence beneath Ignis's searching gaze. He'd only just gotten Lightning to trust him by vowing to keep her identity a secret. As much as he loathed lying to Ignis – his confidant, teacher, and friend – he couldn't risk betraying her. His face must have portrayed this conflict in some way because Ignis saw it, and his own face fell into a mingling of subdued outrage and shrouded hurt.

"Do you no longer trust me, Noctis?" he asked, softly, eyes steely to mask his feelings.

"I could ask the same of you."

It wasn't an accusation but, it stung, just as cruelly, as one. That Noctis even had to ask such a thing was proof enough of his failing confidence in him – at least, that was how he knew Ignis perceived it. For a second, Ignis analyzed him for a sign that he was saying those words because he couldn't say anything else – that maybe he was under duress, terrorized by Lightning into pushing him away. He wanted so badly to believe she was the villain that he almost convinced himself of his false analysis being true.

Only almost.

Noctis tried pretending not to see the sliver of pain hidden behind the glint of Ignis's glasses. He knew it wasn't fair to "choose" Lightning over Ignis, a man that knew every dark crevice of his mind and the tormented secrets tucked within them. Sometimes, he thought that his own father didn't know him as well as Ignis did.

He wished he'd spoken the words aloud because Ignis gave him his iron-hard, business-man look, said, "Well then, if you don't need me, I certainly hope you know what you're doing," and turned his back to him. In a second, he was back on the motorcycle, helmet on, engine snarling back to life, and he vanished in a cloud of dust, leaving Noctis behind.

Noctis's eyes followed the retreating vehicle back up the length of the cliff-side, and when it disappeared above him, he was struck with a strange, hollow sensation. It made the drumming of his heart feel as though it were echoing off the walls of his chest, and there was an odd, nauseous weightlessness lapping at his stomach. Was this what abandonment felt like? Like someone had just taken a jagged knife to one of his limbs, leaving him asymmetrical and incomplete?

He didn't know if he'd ever felt it before.

All his life, Noctis sat and watched people _come to_ him. Whether it be voluntary or not, whether he was given a choice to avoid them or not, every face he'd ever met had been turned towards him. The only instance where their backs were to him was in his own imagination, when he was being tossed around by ogling strangers across the floor of some mansion, holding a party hosted by someone he didn't know. In his desperation for solitude and to – just for once – be out of the blinding spotlight, Noctis would imagine the hundreds of sparkling smiles and air-brushed faces looking the other way. He'd imagine that every one of their backs was facing him and not a single soul noticed he was there.

Had his fantasy ever once come true when he needed it to? Why did the people whom he wanted to see him, turn away before the people he didn't?

There was heat threatening to breach the walls at the back of his eyes and he had to close them to keep it from destroying his reserve. This was what royalty meant, he reminded himself, coldly. People came in and out of your life in a flash, and it was a prince's job to simply smile and nod when they made the inevitable exit. You didn't get attached to people. Why should you when they were just going to be gone as quickly as they came? Friends were a distraction that a prince didn't need if he was going to accomplish greatness. Or, in his case, win the war. It would be the same with all the rest, he thought, an icy blade piercing his clenched heart. Gladiolus, Prompto, Katrina – once their obligations to him were finished, their friendship would fade soon after; Stella: her responsibilities to her country were already beginning to smother the past they both shared; Lightning… She'd be gone before all the rest so, why did he even bother with the effort it took to befriend her?

As he turned and marched into the Marketways, the merchant outside cringing against the dark wrath on his face, Noctis kept on wondering this. Why did he try? What was the point of getting close to people if they were just going to walk away in the end? Why did he give so much of himself to people he thought loved him back if they were just going to tear that piece of him away when they slammed the door on their way out? Was Ignis right in saying that he hadn't learned his lesson? Why would he invest so much into a strange woman from another time if she was just going to leave without giving him a second thought? What was he to her but a stepping stone towards achieving whatever she'd come here for? And what was she to him if that was the case?

When Noctis found the three of them again, deep in the stone halls of the crowded bazaar, and his stinging gaze fell on Lightning, he found his answer. She stood apart from Prompto and Gladiolus – both of which were fooling around trying to flirt with a pretty merchant girl dressed like a chocobo. Off to the right, behind the girl's stand, there was an arched opening back out to the cliff-side, not unlike a window open to a balcony in his father's manor. Lightning stood framed in the arch, her toes fearlessly close to the edge of the outcropping and her back to him as he approached. The nearer he came, the looser the grip of hate came off his heart.

Why did he want to get close to Lightning? The answer was in the expression of her face as it turned to the side and surveyed the chasm beyond. He could only see it in profile but, although her eyes were set in the distance, he could see into them as clearly as if she was looking into his own. She looked out at the world with such sureness in herself, and he knew it wasn't just based on familiarity with the landscape. She looked at the whole world – in every world – with a unique mix of indifference and awe. She saw things for both their beauty and their practicality at the same time. She blended respect and authority into a single glance; she understood the advantages that things had over her but, she also had enough self-confidence to ensure that she would conquer those advantages.

She was balanced. Even when the hands of time had come and cut away all the people and places that Noctis would have needed to stay whole, Lightning remained unfaltering. She'd found the way to keep herself independent from her feelings without losing them to arrogance. He admired her for that, and as much as he wanted to learn from her about the past, he wanted even more to learn from her about being the person she was. How did she come to be so strong in the face of the impossible? How did she stay on her own two feet without the people she loved keeping her upright? How did she stand apart from everything else and not feel… _small_ in comparison?

When she turned to him, the light of the sun struck her blossom-pink hair with gold and made her blue eyes sparkle like the reflection off ocean waves. He didn't think "beautiful" fully encompassed the scope of what Lightning was, nor would "gorgeous," or "stunning," or any of those billboard branded adjectives that gave women an image to strive for. No, she was beyond petty words meant to define her. She was her own words. She was just strikingly _whole_.

"What?" she asked him, a slim brow raised in skepticism, as he must have been staring.

Although the mess he'd made with Ignis still sunk heavily in the bottom of his chest, the promise of not being drilled about it, of not being judged for not speaking about it, and of not being looked at with scathing condemnation for not fitting into the perfect frame of the Caelum prince, made Noctis feel lighter. His bouts of worldly hatred and life's despair were more frequent than he liked to admit, and each time they passed he was left feeling exhausted. All he ever wanted afterwards was to forget he'd ever felt such rage. In the company of distinguished guests at every "glamorous" party, or under the scrutinous eyes of blood-thirsty war-lords when he tried playing ambassador, or on the arms of bubbling, poodle-perfect princesses, his hatred was just given further reason to linger. However, he'd found that with Lightning – as he'd found with all of his coveted group of friends whom he was so afraid to lose – she didn't give him a reason to keep hating the world. Even with a thousand questions racing on figure-eights in her head, she didn't ask one of them. She noticed things about him that other strangers didn't. She knew when he didn't want to "talk about it."

So, when he asked her, in a voice hoarse from restraining his anger, "What are you looking at?" and she didn't give him a disdainful glare for not bleeding out all his feelings instead, the relief that washed through him cleansed away his fury.

"I was here once," Lightning said, turning back to observe the patches of plant life growing along the walls. "A couple of times, actually. I almost didn't recognize it…"

She trailed off, looking back to the point in the distance as if something were missing from the horizon. Noctis came up to stand beside her on the ledge, only giving the area a brief glance, as he was far more focused on her.

"Would you tell me about it?" he asked, quietly, not wanting to press her, as she had done the same for him.

He was surprised when she was forthcoming with information. She'd been wary of telling him too much, still under the impression that he might use her in some mad science experiment. Since the air between them had begun to clear of secrets, she was becoming more open with him. Not enough to tell him anything personal – the mentioning of her sister had been the result of an uncommon outpouring of emotion that wasn't likely to happen again – but, this was enough for him.

"It used to be called the Faultwarrens, where the fal'Cie, Titan, gathered Pulse's strongest creatures and pitted them against each other with the prize for victory being evolutionary advancement. We spent a lot of time here, preparing for a much bigger battle."

There was nothing he wanted to do more than ask her who "we" were and what her great battle was but, he pulled himself up and opted for the more universal question.

"You met fal'Cie?"

"I killed fal'Cie."

She caught him with this fact – with the way she said it, it was unquestionably _a fact_ – and he gave her a bewildered stare. She didn't look up to notice it, her eyes set far away, onto the past.

"It's strange," she went on, voice nearly a whisper. "Millennium have passed since then yet, it was only days ago. Fal'Cie no longer exist."

When she said those words, a massive burden, the size of two worlds combined, slipped from her shoulders. Once more, the vast measure of time came down between them and he was lost from the thoughts in her head. She turned to him suddenly, her eyes sharp with demand, as though if she didn't ask now, she'd never get the chance again.

"How do you perform magic?"

Noctis blinked once. Twice. He was confounded by her question. Out of everything he expected her to ask him, this hadn't been one of them. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever been asked that, not by anyone. Did the question even exist in his time? He took a minute to try and formulate an answer, drawing from the memorized words of his books.

"I don't know," he said, honestly. "We're born with the ability to harness the elements, if we so choose. It's the same as knowing you'll one day learn how to read or do math. Some people excel at it more than others but, we're all capable of using it. It was discovered during the Second Colonization of Pulse that humans no longer needed to be endowed with power by a higher entity."

She processed this information in silence, regarding him with eyes that concealed where and why these facts were being stored. Once she'd put the new piece into its proper place, she asked another question that arose from the new picture in her head.

"You're not born with any strange markings on your skin?"

"What do you mean?"

Noctis's brows knit together, becoming more and more confused by why she was wondering about the subject of magic. When his confusion exhibited upon his face, Lightning immediately turned away and shut down. Panic trickled through him when she mistook his curiosity for some kind of malicious suspicion. He fished through the deep catalogs of history packing his brain to try and find an inkling as to what she was asking. In another absent and unconscious gesture, Lightning's hand traveled to the center of her chest while she was facing away from him, tracing some unfamiliar shape that might have been there.

A vague, unsupported claim came back to Noctis then. It had only been passed down by word of mouth and without any physical evidence to prove it existed. The concept of fal'Cie and l'Cie was so tarnished by history that people even doubted both were real once in the first place. Anything that was ever spoken about them was beginning to be considered myth but, the interest Lightning was taking in magic pooled all these pieces of Noctis's own questions together.

"Do you mean l'Cie brands?" he chanced to ask, riding on the sparse tale disregarded as superstition.

The look she shot him in response gave him all the proof he needed to believe it was truth. And the hypothesis he'd only just begun to form about her was proven to be more than just a guess as well. Before she could say anything, he asked her without hesitation: "Are you a l'Cie?"

She fixed him in a level stare, the scales between trust and doubt bouncing up and down in her skull. He cursed his over-enthusiasm again, retreating back into his contemplative shell with an embarrassed apology. Her eyes slipped away from him, and his hopes dampened beneath the threat of losing her confidence.

"…Not anymore."

Noctis looked back at her, unsure if he'd actually heard her speak or imagined it. Lightning's fingers curled into a loose fist above the spot on her chest and conflict tore her faraway gaze once more. He couldn't read this divide of emotion. On one side, he thought he recognized relief, so immensely weightless that she almost looked like she was floating. Of the other, he couldn't say. She weighed the apparent loss of her l'Cie status with great trepidation. He wished he could understand her.

The exchange of intelligence ended too quickly for his insatiably limitless inquiries but, he knew when she had gone as far as she could with the amount of trust she had for him. Considering how much that was, she'd gone incredibly far. As thanks, Noctis knew he had to offer the same if not more – not that she'd ever ask for such herself. He opted for offering her more. Besides, what was the purpose of investing all his money into his silly projects if they weren't able to help someone?

"Lightning," he said, still unused to calling her by name and unsure if he even deserved to yet.

It got her attention though, dragging her from the closed thoughts that riddled her mind. She gave him a quizzical glance, just as unfamiliar with the sound of her name spoken by him as he was.

"Would it help at all," he went on, "if I took you to see your hometown? Would you like to see the New Bodhum Ruins?"

Her eyes widened with incredulity, unprepared for such an open invitation to explore one of the areas that so frequently plagued her thoughts. She didn't let her eagerness get the better of her though, and slid back into her practiced skepticism.

"What do you mean by 'help?'"

Noctis figured there was no use in hiding from her the conclusions he'd made of her on his own. Since they'd started getting to know each other, he didn't see the harm in voicing his assumptions. The danger of her running off like on the first night no longer loomed overhead.

"You're looking for something, aren't you?" he risked saying. "You don't have to tell me what it is but, maybe going back to the start and moving forward from there might aid you better."

She considered his words, carefully, as she had with everything else he'd ever said to her, and he was patient with waiting for her response. He let her analyze him as much as she needed to convince herself that she could trust his offer was genuine. When she assured herself of just that, Lightning let her arms unfold from their protective wall across her chest and she gave him the tiniest fragment of a smile.

"I…appreciate the offer. When can we go?"

"Would tomorrow be soon enough?"

"Sure."

"Good. But, we can't go unless you let me find you some new clothes."

Just like that, her nearly transparent smile was crushed down under a scowl, and she resumed her former intense glaring at him.

"Gran Pulse has only become more treacherous since your time," he tried to convince her. "And the terrain around the excavation site is particularly so. A good pair of hiking boots and a couple winter coats is hardly an expense."

He knew she didn't want to be spoiled by his mountain's worth of inheritance so, if he promised her just the bare essentials, he hoped she would come down from her stand at least by one step. She held his gaze for a long, spiteful moment, eyes aflame with azure fire. He contested against it with the most chilling and unmoving stare he'd ever learned, and in the end, it won out.

"Fine," she sighed, lowering her gaze with an agitated twitch of her brow.

The need to see Bodhum made her war against shopping seem too petty to be bothered with, so she allowed him the victory. He gave her a gracious smile for her cooperation and turned to head back inside.

"Noctis," she called to him, hesitant to address him so casually. "Thanks again."

"You didn't think I meant it when I said I'd help you however I could?" he replied with a smirk, more than aware of her doubtfulness.

She cracked a half smile for proving he wasn't a liar and followed him back into the bazaar. At least he could help _someone_, Noctis thought, as he went about disentangling Prompto from the feathers of the merchant girl. At least not everything he did was for a lost cause.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** A'ight. Lemme eshplain to u a thing:

E3. If you weren't there, you weren't Square because they demolished that conference. I don't usually remember E3s once they're over but, E3 2013's definitely going down in my personal history book.

Now, once the initial thrill of seeing Versus re-named XV with brand new, beautiful footage wore off, I had to give this chapter - and a good bulk of the future chapters - a really hard stare. A lot of the new information we got from E3 doesn't exactly align with the theories I myself had about the "Versus" world. The more I learn about Noctis especially, the more different it seems he's going to become from the characterization I've written about thus far. So, in an effort to try and incorporate some of the new facts gleaned from the new trailer and subsequent announcements, this chapter was more of a character focus for Noctis than much of plot-fuel.

Writing from Noctis's perspective was extremely difficult - more than I ever thought it would be. Some characters, writers just resonate with and others just don't click for them. And that's pretty much how I felt about writing from Noctis's viewpoint. I'm not sure if it's just because of all the conflicting information in my own head that I have about him or what but, either way, I don't think his point of view is for me and I'd rather not go into it too often through the remainder of the story.

_But_, if you guys happened to like it, please let me know in a review, and I will try training myself to adjust to Noctis's voice better, and do more chapters from his perspective. The way I'm trying to incorporate the new facts and the old about Noctis is by giving him "highs" and "lows" - which I'm hoping is more canon than we know right now. "My" Noctis from the chapters before, probably wouldn't have over-reacted to Ignis's disapproval of him like he did in this chapter and would have smoothed things over much easier but, for the sake of trying to stay as close to the true character as possible, I summoned up some of the hard-headedness I've come to believe he actually has.

Not sure I really like how that worked out but, like I said, I'll let you guys be the judge of that. The next chapter _has_ to be from Lightning's perspective because stuff's going to happen (finally!) that can only be looked out of from her eyes to be understood. The chapter after that might be back in Noctis's perspective but, I haven't decided that far ahead yet. Your comments will help me to decide!

Did you like the "new" take on Noctis, based upon the new information we received about him? Would you like to see more exploration into merging the old and the new as the story goes on?

I only ask because I greatly value all of your opinions. Seriously, I've said this a million times but, I just love the feedback I get from you guys on this story! You're all so smart and sweet, and you know what's good and bad, and your reviews have been a great inspiration to figuring out the direction of this story. I really appreciate it!

I hope you look forward to the next chapter, as I'm really looking forward to writing it. _A lot_ of your questions are going to get answered once Lightning revisits Bodhum, scout's honor! *salutes* See you guys then.

PS: I'm not changing Tenebrae to Niflheim or Arcadia to Lucis or any of the new city/invader names because it's just far too late for that at this point of the story. And I'm not introducing Cor Leonis either. I wasn't expecting him with the new material and there's just no time with where the pace of the story is headed to bring him in. After the next chapter, things are really going to start spiraling and there's going to be no stopping the crazy train. All my future projects after this one though, will definitely include the real and proper names, people, and places... whenever those future projects come.


	9. Memories

_IX ~ Memories_

Lightning dove head-first, like a woman possessed, into every imaginable resource in Noctis's library that detailed the New Bodhum Ruins. Since returning from the Marketways and well into the night, she'd locked her eyes onto his books and hadn't glanced up again until well past midnight, when Noctis more or less _ordered_ her to get some sleep. Throughout the day, he'd remained near at hand in the study to assist and answer her if the research ever brought her up short – which it often did. Lightning thought that she might find the prince's company to be a nuisance after he'd bribed her to get new clothes in exchange for a ticket to the excavation site but, she found it to be quite the opposite as the hours had wound by.

While she'd resumed her sentry's post upon the step-ladder facing the doors, Noctis had seated himself in one of the handsome leather chairs near the fireplace, which he lit with the spark of his fire magic for her benefit. He'd been more than compliant with her request to see his powers in action, performing the spell with such deft grace that it was even clearer for Lightning to see than the spells she'd once casted from her own hands. The technique was identical to that of a l'Cie, executed with a slight twist of the wrist and flexing of fingers. The mystical aura that enveloped his hand with the summoning of the element was the same: energy was pulled from the surrounding atmosphere and pooled together in his palm before rapidly condensing into a sphere of arcane fire. The crackling flames floated in his hand for but a moment before he made the motion to release it onto the firewood.

Once the brief display was over, Noctis had turned to her with eager eyes and a question on his lips. However, he jerked it back down his throat before it hit open air and drew away. She knew he wanted to ask her more about her past as a l'Cie and a part of her wanted to tell him about it. Maybe if she discussed more of herself, she could sooner figure out what Etro had sent her to the future for. The other part of her still found it difficult to trust and kept her lips closed. She wasn't entirely sure of why she'd told him as much as she did within the bazaar but, she thought it might have had something to do with the crumbling look on his face when he returned from confronting Ignis.

She wasn't blind to the tension she'd brought between the two men since arriving. That said tension had finally snapped yesterday became apparent to Lightning when Noctis approached her. Instantly, she'd wanted to apologize for driving a wedge between them with her presence but, his face made a drastic change back into its soft politeness, which was all the signal she needed to understand that he didn't want to talk about it. That was fine. She didn't like Ignis enough to say "sorry" anyway.

She'd distracted him with magic-talk instead as penance for ruining his friendship and he'd been thrilled to answer her questions as best he could. She still found his school-boy wonder immensely amusing and it put her more at ease when talking with him. Although their discussion had been short, it had provoked many new thoughts in Lightning that she hadn't yet addressed. Following the release from crystal stasis, the lifting of her l'Cie curse had been a blessing. However, with the tasking of a new mission, Lightning was left to wonder if keeping her now lost abilities would have better suited her new quest. As she trailed after Noctis between merchant stands, indulging in his whim to buy her whatever he thought she needed to survive, Lightning had silently attempted to rouse any lingering magic that may be within her. From trying to summon up a breeze in the airless caverns, to attempting to send invisible medicine to her bandaged arm, all of her efforts came back failed. Etro had left her no protection against a world whose inhabitants were awarded magic as a birthright.

There was much more Lightning wanted to ask Noctis in regards to spell-casting, specifically about his own abilities which allowed him to summon weapons from transparent crystals in the air and form a protective wall thin enough to remain unseen but, strong enough to repel a bullet. She was convinced that this power was unique only to him, as he wielded such mastery over it and was so expertly attuned to it that it couldn't possibly be so common. Besides that assumption, she hadn't seen a single soldier on the snow-covered battleground match him with the same magic.

Neither of them asked any other questions of the other though, and retreated to their respective corners of the study for the remainder of the night. Contrary to how she thought she might have felt, Lightning didn't feel as if Noctis was monitoring her by staying so close. He didn't watch her every move and record every book she drew from the shelves. Instead, he occupied himself with folders of very boring and official-looking business papers, only looking away from them when she called for his services.

As the night remained uninterrupted by scheduled princesses or intrusive friends, a sense of contentment fell over Lightning. Their only other company had been an occasional visit from Katrina but, the maid slipped in and out so quickly and quietly, Lightning hardly even noticed her. She made sure they were fed if they were hungry and served perceptively chosen refreshments to each of them. She dropped a glass of wine in front of Noctis because she noticed his pinched expression of unhappy concentration while looking at his papers – he accepted without complaint and without looking up. Lightning was given a hot cup of coffee when Kat noticed her eyes were tiring against her will. Lightning gave her a thankful nod for the desired caffeine. She didn't see the girl again after that.

By the end of the night, Lightning had nearly twenty books opened on top of each other along the steps of the ladder. Noctis even provided her with his personal excavation reports to look over. The bulk of her questions arose from those documents.

"Is this the 'discovery' Jeremiah Estheim was about to unveil before his…accident?"

By that time, it had been nearing midnight and Noctis had reached the bottom of his wineglass. When he rose from his chair, Lightning was sure she'd woken him from napping since he had to stand still for a moment to adjust to the spinning room. She hid her irrepressible smile behind her hand, pretending to have it pressed to her lips in thought. Jostling the disheveled arrangement of his hair out of place with a weary hand, Noctis directed himself across the room and leaned on the ladder for support once he got there. Resting one elbow on the step next to her feet, he extended the other hand upward for the file in question. After she'd helped his fingers to stay clasped around the pages, Noctis drew it to his face and blinked a few times to clear the tired fog from his eyes, giving the photograph paper-clipped to the file a hard look.

"Yup," he said, yawning. "That would be it."

"What is 'it,' exactly?"

"Not really sure."

Lightning's brow wrinkled in confusion as he handed the pages back to her.

"You killed a man over something you don't know the purpose of?"

"Hey," he interjected, lifting the hand resting on the ladder to weakly point at her, with a hooded glare to back it up. "I was barely alive for that."

He wasn't offended, as her words had been meant in jest, and she rolled her eyes with a smirk for his argument. Then, she asked, "Why was it so important to have?"

Noctis stared up at her, thinking, pointing finger still hanging in the air. After a moment, he dragged that hand across his forehead and tugged at his ebony bangs of hair in thought. While he closed his eyes to try and remember it all, Lightning looked back at the curious photograph. It depicted a large, sphere-like object, nestled in carved away rock somewhere within the ruins. At first glance, she had mistaken it as the Pulsian fal'Cie, Atomos, and fear had splintered through her heart. While Atomos itself was relatively harmless, just the idea of any fal'Cie still lingering as a relic in Noctis's world made her panic. Upon further inspection, she found it wasn't the case and had called the prince over for further clarification. She glanced down at him now, eyes closed in concentration – or sleep; she wasn't sure.

"My Grandpa Caelum," he finally said when she was about to try shaking him back into wakefulness, "thought it might be some secret weapon of Tenebrae that they were gonna use to win the war. He was a pretty paranoid guy. Turns out it isn't a weapon but, we can't figure out what the heck it is otherwise. My old man wanted to abandon the site but, I managed to buy it off him a couple years ago. The thing doesn't move, doesn't open; doesn't do anything. We've poked and probed and prodded but, it still doesn't do a damn thing. Estheim I think knew what it was but, he took the truth to his grave."

Lightning scrutinized the photo for a little while longer, eyes tracing the detailed runes across the sphere's surface, winding together like an overgrown net of weeds. Triangular slabs like plated armor were layered along the rounded curve and seemed to be fastened together by symmetrical shapes on either side of the orb's center. Was it some sort of container, like the elevator of Taejin's Tower? Even if it was, what the hell did it have to do with her? Although she hadn't been around to see most of it, there was no question that if there were pieces of the past still left behind, she wanted to be connected with them. Maybe they held a key to unlocking the mystery of Etro's quest. Lightning had nothing else to go on but her own instincts that it might be a possible clue, as Etro wasn't the least bit talkative.

Noctis yawned again next to her, mumbling something about going to bed and that she should think about doing the same. She told him that she was "right behind him" as he staggered out the door but, she hardly moved an inch from her seat and remained reading for another hour, at least. When Noctis did finally realize that he had not been followed as per requested, and returned to retrieve her, Lightning was half-certain he was sleep-walking. At the end of his efforts to drag her to her bedroom, their roles were reversed and she had to drag him back to his room before taking herself to her own. The hours had caught up to Lightning once her head hit the pillows after abandoning Noctis to fight with his stuck bedroom door.

It had felt like mere minutes had passed before sunlight was streaking across the sheets and the journey to the New Bodhum Ruins had begun. After another delectable breakfast from Noctis's "miracle maid" and some particular choosiness in regards to her new wardrobe, Noctis and Lightning were on the road once more.

The sun had been getting brighter and the sky bluer with each passing day but, the temperature wasn't getting any warmer. While the sun was hot enough to just start shaving off some inches from the snowfall, it wasn't enough to keep Lightning from shivering once they stepped outside. Putting her misgivings aside, she knew she owed Noctis great thanks for acquiring her new clothes. The dark jeans repelled the cold from stinging her as it had before and the burgundy leather jacket was warm and snug, with a high collar to block out the wind. She'd decided to fore-go the new hiking boots in favor of her own, as she was more comfortable walking within her own shoes. Noctis hadn't complained, so long as she stayed warm. He was in his casual, trademark black, beneath a stylish leather coat that matched the shiny car he drove her out in.

After the previous day's debacle, Lightning had almost been _nervous_ to set foot in the courtyard again. When no roaring sports cars or motorcycles chased them to the garage, she was able to relax. It was just her and Noctis on this trip. A couple days ago, she would have rebelled against the idea but, since her opinion of him had kept evolving more towards the positive, she felt like she _needed_ this trip to just be between the two of them. Having met and confronted so many of his colleagues, with their turning questions and scathing eyes, had left Lightning drained. Noctis himself wasn't nearly as pushy as his friends and to be in the pressureless, easiness of his company was what Lightning needed to readjust.

Their drive was quiet and comfortable, all the previous day's stress between them dissipating to easy amiability. He watched the road and she watched the windows, admiring the strange familiarity of the world beyond. Sometimes, if he glanced to the side and saw her staring at something, he would ask her if she'd like to know more about it. Sometimes she said "yes," other times she said "no," and he was content with either answer. The more she learned about his world though, the less intimidated she felt by it.

He'd explained the Marketways to her yesterday and how they started as a surplus outpost for the army after the city-wide evacuation. He told her that some Arcadian citizens had fled to the neutral countries of Paddra and Disceterra when no end to the war seemed to be in sight. He told her that others remained hopeful that Arcadia would soon drive out the Tenebrae incursion. So hopeful and loyal were they to their leaders, that they remained as close to the city as was possible without getting in the way, providing a substitute society within the Titanian Chasm until they were allowed to return home.

She had wanted to ask him more about his family, now that she knew they were the "leaders" the Arcadians looked to for victory. But, she hadn't asked him that, sensing a certain solemnity about him in regards to the subject. While they drove and he answered her questions about the things they passed, she volunteered to answer any questions of his when she recognized a structure from her past. Although she wasn't an expert on Gran Pulse, she drew on what Fang and Vanille had told her and the other l'Cie about their native planet. She told him about the fierce beasts that once ruled the Pulsian locales and he told her he thought he'd seen a fossil of such in a museum once.

Their exchanges remained steady and unintrusive the entire long way to the excavation site. It was another hour after leaving Arcadia until the country and forests gave way to rocky mountain paths. She didn't need to hear Noctis say, "We're almost there," to know that the site was near. A brief spike in her adrenaline, excited solely by instinct, let her know that the ruins were drawing closer. The car climbed through a narrow mountain pass, which when broken through to the other side, sloped gently down to a flat plane, upon which rested the New Bodhum graveyard.

Although Lightning had previously familiarized herself with the area from Noctis's photos, it was even more shocking to see it in person. The final result of the mysterious "Eidolon Wars" that had torn New Bodhum apart, had been a catastrophic explosion of nearly nuclear proportions. It left the town to rest in an enormous crater and had dried up miles-worth of ocean. A silver glint in the distance signaled where the coastline began but, Lightning knew from old pictures that it used to wash right up to the doorsteps of New Bodhum residencies.

As they descended down the hill, the crumbling walls and caving rooftops of the old buildings became easier to see, sunken into the concave dips of the crater, looking more like teeth in a giant monster's mouth. Tents and scaffolds littered the area, all with people bustling in and out, searching for artifacts and anything else of value. When they parked at the base of the crater's outer wall, a group of archaeologists paused with what they were doing to stare at the car, no doubt recognizing it as belonging to their employer. From behind the windshield, Lightning caught expressions of uneasiness flash across their faces before hiding behind pinched smiles of greeting. Lightning glanced towards Noctis to see his reaction but, if he noticed, it didn't show. He stopped with his hand on the car door to look at her, his eyes asking if she was still certain about entering the ruins.

Lightning wasn't about to hesitate after waiting so long to get there. She left the car with hardly half a glance at the dust-covered scientists staring at her. At her back, she heard Noctis greet his gathered employees, providing some vague, insubstantial explanation for his sudden arrival that she was sure they didn't believe but, were too scared of losing their jobs to argue against. Lightning restrained herself from bolting up the makeshift stairs against the crater's outer wall without him, both eager and uneasy to see what had become of New Bodhum up close.

Questions ran abound in her head as she surveyed the massive width of the crater. Before, she hadn't wondered too much about the Eidolon Wars but, now that she was so close to the ancient battleground, her speculations danced wildly through her mind. She had yet to tell Noctis about what she knew of Eidolons, not seeing how it was in any way relevant to her cause. However, a cold finger of trepidation stroked her spine with the new proximity to the area. She couldn't define where it came from nor why but, the ruins' past already had her nerves ignited.

"Shall we?" Noctis asked from behind her, gesturing to the scaffolding ahead.

Lightning nodded and followed his lead, climbing the sturdy wooden stairs to the top lip of the crater to look down at what remained within. Pieces of buildings jutted out from all sides; tunnels had been drilled into the slanted earth, filled with harnessed and helmeted men and women, all mining away in search of ancient treasures; man-made outcroppings were plated with tents, some for research, others for rest; wooden landings and staircases zig-zagged all across the massive expanse, connecting each and every site, and descending all the way to the crater floor.

Lightning marveled at how thorough and extensive the operation seemed. The hum of conversation between the multitudes of archaeologists lessened the haunted impact of the buried city. Noctis looked to her as he came up to lean on the safety railing beside her, built to keep his workers from plummeting to their doom.

"Am I taking good enough care of it?" he asked.

Although he meant for it to sound teasing, Lightning thought she heard the sound of seeking for her approval in his voice. Technically, New Bodhum had never been her home and she had no right to act as if she'd ever had a prior claim of ownership over it. She gave him a half smile of her gratitude anyway for the effort put into preserving the ruins. Even though it wasn't populated in quite the fashion she would have preferred or expected, she'd rather see it full of devoted archaeologists than full of dust.

"What would you like to see first?"

"Anything," she answered, gaze constantly flitting from rubble to researchers, trying to commit every minute detail to memory in a single sweep.

Taking that as an allowance for him to assume leadership, Noctis straightened, put on his "business-professional" persona, and guided her along all the intersecting scaffolds. They visited each and every tent, post, and closed off dig site throughout the day. Lightning saw the skeletons of beach shacks and bars; preserved toys, dishes, and all other manner of common household comforts. She saw fossils of creatures that had lived in the sands and under the sea; she saw imprints of trees, bushes, and flowers; however, she didn't see a fossil of a human native. She asked Noctis if his workers had found anything of the sort but, he shook his head in dismay.

"I can hardly imagine what we could learn from such a valuable item," he said. "Unfortunately, whatever happened here those centuries ago seems to have wiped every atom of the human population clear out of history."

"What _did_ happen, by the way?" she asked, carefully. "What exactly were the Eidolon Wars?"

"I wish I could tell you more but, as much as we know about fal'Cie and l'Cie, we know even less about Eidolons. The only evidence we have that such a thing was even the cause of this crater, is a single journal entry that the Estheim line found in a used book store, miles away from here. However it was passed along, it was always assumed to be a ghost story."

Lightning had to stop and pinch the bridge of her nose to try and dissuade the impending migraine that was coming on. The more he told her about how relevant history was discarded, the more she thought that every single person that had lived within the past thousand years was a complete and utter idiot. How could some of these people even call themselves scientists or historians? She didn't need a college degree to be able to properly differentiate between fact and fiction, so what the hell was wrong with these people? Noctis offered her an apologetic smile on behalf of his ancestors.

"Is there anything else you want to see?" he then asked.

By that time, the sky was painting itself red with the sunset and they had traversed every inch of the crater's inner perimeter. It seemed that Noctis had showed her nearly everything that was worth seeing but, none of it had lent towards some profound revelation about her quest like Lightning had hoped. In that regard, the entire trip had been a colossal waste of time but, she didn't let that thought show on her face for Noctis's sake. He was trying so hard to help her, much harder than she deserved after all the grief she was causing him. She looked long and hard around the crater one more time from where she stood. Although she doubted it would result in anything more than what she'd already seen, Lightning asked to see one last thing.

"Where's that ball you don't know the purpose of?"

The prince took her to the item in question without a single dissenting comment. It was a long way to the crater floor where the mysterious sphere had been left embedded in rock and on the way down, she questioned him about why there didn't seem to be any excavating activity around the artifact. He said that the stone which it was stuck in required equipment to clear it away that they just couldn't afford at the moment. Until he could gather up the appropriate funds, the dig team had been encouraged to avoid examining the relic and instead focus their efforts elsewhere. He said that the team was more than happy to leave the artifact alone.

"Why's that?" Lightning asked.

"It's silly," Noctis said, sweeping an abashed look down at his feet. "The team's under the impression that the thing's cursed, or haunted, or something."

"What would give them that idea?"

He shrugged, just as confounded by his team's discomfort as she was.

"Anytime I ask, I can never get a straight answer. The most I get is just that they have a 'bad feeling' anytime they go near it."

"You haven't experienced the same, I'm guessing."

He shook his head, pausing on a landing midway down the steep scaffold. Lightning looked towards their destination, still a long way beneath them. From her distance, the sphere didn't look any more impressive than it had in the photograph. It was embedded at the heart of the crater, which was about the only interesting thing about it. Given its placement, Lightning was under the impression that it might be the source of the crater's creation, the blast radius circling perfectly around it. Noctis could tell her nothing about whether or not that was the case, just that he'd had the same impression when he first saw it.

He guided her across the barren ground at the bottom of the stairs and up to the face of the sphere. Although its size was considerably greater than she'd initially thought, it wasn't the biggest thing she'd ever seen in her life. It was about five feet taller than her and made of some indiscernible alabaster material beneath the bronze-gold patterns across the surface. Dust, rust, and all other manner of wear were embedded in the grooves, and there were scratches and scars from time and stone marring what was once a pristine-kept shell.

"I can see why you have no idea what it is," Lightning stated, slim, salmon brows connecting in thought.

Noctis stood beside her with arms crossed and face taut, and with barely suppressed irritation. It was an expression she had a feeling he wore often in regards to the sphere. She had yet to see it upon his regularly imperturbable face. The giant ball had been an enigma to him since acquiring the site and was the last piece of the New Bodhum puzzle he needed to fully understand the ancient catastrophe. He hadn't told her as much but, what he didn't say aloud was easy enough for her to observe for herself. His dig team had nearly exhausted their study of the crater. Every little thing that might be of value was bagged and tagged. They had overlooked absolutely nothing, experts in their field that made certain the most thorough attention went into their work. In half glances as she passed during Noctis's tour, Lightning had caught unfinished notes and charts only for this particular artifact looming over her. Everything else had stamps of completion and the most frequent direction the scientists' stares took were down towards the sphere.

Now that she was standing before it herself, she knew precisely why it was such a perplexing find. It was out of place in comparison to the rest of the team's collection. They'd found pieces of houses, evidence of kitchen-ware, doors, mirrors, decorative furnishings; all the things one would expect to find in a small, beach-side community. They could derive no such purpose from the sphere.

"Maybe it's a giant bowling ball," Noctis said into the silence of their staring. "Maybe that Titan fal'Cie you told me about played when he was stuck on ideas for evolution."

"You're really at a loss over this thing," Lightning chuckled, amazed that it had him so annoyed as to make a sarcastic joke.

"You don't recognize it at all?" he asked, looking at her with imploring blue eyes, desperate for the tiniest inkling as to what the hell the thing was.

She smiled in apology and that was the only sign he needed to sigh in defeat, pulling a rough hand through his hair, as he was apt to do when he was on the verge of losing his princely composure.

"Sorry," she felt compelled to say. "I've led you on a wild chocobo chase."

"Not at all," he said, waving a dissuading hand at her. "I just wish all of this could have been a better help to _you_. Was nothing able to answer your questions?"

Lightning's lips pressed together as she turned to face the sphere again, unable to meet Noctis's gaze at the risk of seeing disappointment in it for thinking he'd failed her. For whatever reason, he had taken up her burdens as his own and had made it his purpose to provide her with every means necessary in an effort to sate her ever-increasing list of questions. She didn't have the heart to tell him that this entire trip had in fact been for nothing. She must not have been able to clear the expression from her face quickly enough this time, because from the corner of her eye, she could see his posture soften, despondently.

"I appreciate the help, nonetheless," she hastily blurted out. "This whole situation is a mess and any theory is helpful but, maybe I'm just _not_ supposed to know why I'm here or how I even got here. Who knows?"

Lightning didn't know why she felt the need to assure him that he'd done no wrong in bringing her out there for the day. He wasn't some child in need of her approval and yet, she just couldn't stand that hidden hint of dejection beneath his cool stare. She'd never cared about disappointing people before so, why the hell should it matter now? There was another long pause – of which most of their conversations always ended up – of them seething beneath the shadow of the sphere, both milling through their own set of troubled thoughts.

"Light?" Noctis said then, using the allowed nickname for the first time since she'd sanctioned it. "How _did_ you get here?"

Lightning was brought up short within her own meandering mind. Had she yet to explain the circumstances behind her arrival to him? Had she truly managed to keep the involvement of the Goddess concealed from him in all this time? She would have been impressed with herself if she weren't at her wit's end with this seemingly meaningless quest that she was on. It was her turn to drag her fingers through her hair, closing her eyes to try and sort everything she had and had not said so far.

"It's a long story," she sighed, nails coming down to pinch the bridge of her nose again when the events she aligned in her head threatened to break through her forehead. "I hardly believe half of it myself."

Noctis was quiet, battling with some hefty thought that wanted to leap off his lips before he'd fully considered the effect it would have. When he did finally gather it together for himself, he was still hesitant to set it free, speaking very delicately into the crisp air.

"Maybe we could discuss it…over lunch. I can have Kat whip something up and we can just…sit. And talk."

Something in Lightning stilled. She wasn't sure what it was or where inside herself it might be but, something, somewhere, just ceased functioning. That was the best way she could explain it to herself. Slowly, her hand slid from where it was pressed against her face to fend off her headache and she stared, unflinchingly, at the man next to her. If she thought her insides had come to a halt, it was nothing in comparison to the motionless that had suddenly fallen over Noctis. He had become as closed off and unmoving as the sphere above them, a painful rigidity keeping every muscle in his body wound into a tight, elastic coil. Even the soft rise and fall of his chest stopped with the holding of his breath, eyes fixed on a particular symbol on the sphere like a flan suctioned to a cliffside rock. Lightning might have thought she was looking into a mirror.

"Lunch?" she practically wheezed, her own breath constricting around her lungs.

"Yeah, it's almost noon and you must be hungry after all this walking," he said in a rush, the words colliding together to keep up with the curt breath of his own.

"Sitting and talking…"

"Or just sitting. We don't have to talk if you don't want to talk about – "

"Yes."

Lightning had to get it out before either of them talked themselves out of it but, it came out like a gunshot, making Noctis twitch defensively, obviously expecting the alternative. She had expected the same of herself. When he looked at her, it was in bewilderment and in search for confirmation that he had in fact heard her right.

"Secrecy's getting me nowhere," she said, hearing herself as if she were standing half a mile away. "Talking sounds like a good idea."

The rubber-banded muscles knotted beneath his skin snapped all at once, allowing him to collapse into relief and something else Lightning couldn't define.

"Great! I'll get the car ready. If you want to look around one more time, I, uh…I'll be up there. By the car."

"Meet you there," Lightning agreed, head nodding as if on puppet strings.

Noctis made the same gesture, lingered as if he weren't sure which way was out of the crater, then quickly turned around and found his way.

Was he…flustered?

Was _she_ flustered?

…If she were flustered – and she wasn't about to admit to herself that she was – _why in the hell _would she be? Why would _he_ be? They'd eaten, sat, and talked before. They had the first night they'd met and most days since. The way he'd asked her though…that was what made it different. This wasn't out of mere biological obligation to keep oneself fed. He had never asked her to a meal because they both knew she would eat anyway, lest she die. This was an actual _invitation_ and it had nothing to do with food.

Lightning stared unseeingly ahead, rewinding the moment to better analyze the prince's out of character mannerisms. Tense shoulders, straight back, directionless gaze, and a nearly imperceptible quiver which stemmed out from the clenching of his jaw; she'd seen that stance once or twice before a very, _very_ long time ago. Back when life was trivial and before she'd estranged herself from Serah, her little sister had been her personal cheerleader in regards to "meeting new people." And on the off chance that she did, they wore that same expression when gearing up to ask her a very pivotal question.

She had to murmur it aloud because merely thinking it might mean it was only in her imagination. Her heartbeat quickened just a touch as the words formed beneath her breath.

"Did he just ask me on a…"

The question fell dead on her lips as a sudden tremor underfoot seized her attention. It happened out of nowhere, the deathly stillness of the crater shuddering violently beneath her, enough to make her always-planted feet stumble in surprise. The quaking ceased just as abruptly as it started but, only to prepare for a more severe jarring. This one threw Lightning completely off balance, rocking her forward towards the ground before she caught herself, using the mysterious sphere to keep herself from falling. When her palms hit its surface and her body leaned into it for support, Lightning felt then that the tremors weren't coming from the ground. They were being made by the sphere.

She quickly pushed herself off just as the rune-faced shell shifted, like an egg cracking, with a thunderous crash of the plate-like slabs breaking apart. A cloud of dust plumed out from between where the slabs had been sealed together, spraying against Lightning's face. She backed away a step to escape the full brunt of the grainy blast, fanning the air to clear it from her eyes. The shaking became relentless, rippling throughout the entirety of the crater to rattle the thick network of stairs and scaffolds. Frantic shouts rose up as work materials began crashing from their tables and the crew were jolted off their feet, desperately clinging to the safety rails to save themselves from falling.

The rough motions of the sphere separating weren't enough to trigger such dramatic quakes; it was that, as it continued to shift, an invisible pulsing energy oozed out with the collapsing dirt, growing stronger the more that it moved. And it was moving, alright. The strange pieces clicked and groaned out of place, moving with great effort to unlock from the various crusts of age. The more it moved though, the faster it became. It was also changing shape, surging upwards to become taller and pieces separating at the sides to become wider.

"Lightning, get out of there!"

She could hardly hear the call over the crescendo of destructive noises and the drumming in her ears as the outpour of energy persisted. She staggered backwards and tossed a look over her shoulder, eyes raking across the wall of the crater. She spotted Noctis a quarter of the way up, trying to make his way back down through a wall of frightened diggers that were raving at him to "stay back," practically tackling him to prevent him from going towards danger. Lightning whipped back to face the unhinging monstrosity at the heart of the devastation, the raw terror on Noctis's face nudging her maintained bravado over the edge. If she had been trying to coach herself into standing her ground, the severity of his face was incentive enough to abandon the idea.

Her unsteady feet moved back a little faster, she not daring to turn her back on the thing before she was sure she was safely out of range to make a run for it. When she saw that the separated sides had the distinct shape of arms, holding it aloft as it continued to change form, she turned and bolted. In the mere two bounds she had taken, she honed in on a single point to flee towards. That point had been the wild blue of Noctis's gaze so, when her leg was suddenly jerked from under her by one of the lashed out arms of the creature, she saw the shattering in his eyes. It flashed hard against the base of her skull when her body hit the ground.

The breath was hardly halfway out of her when she was dragged across the rubble. In a mad, blind panic, her fingers clawed through the dirt. Her face skinned against rock and clay, and the soil tumbled into her mouth as she tried to catch a gulp of air. Her survival instincts fired through her blood as her body was bombarded by the earth beneath her. Letting them take total control, Lightning twisted onto her back as she was pulled in and the leg that wasn't trapped by the humanoid paw kicked violently at the clasped digits surrounding her ankle.

"Get the hell off of me!" she snarled in defiance, pounding her heel into the fingers, armored like gauntlets.

The ground stopped rumbling beneath her when she was brought only inches away from the front of the metallic beast. Her boot slammed against its body to halt her descent and she tried pushing herself free of the snare around her foot but, it wouldn't relent. She sent a barrage of fierce kicks against its chest, rapidly searching for some chink in the armor that she could exploit. Hitting the chest wouldn't work because it was most heavily protected by the break away shield that rested there when it wasn't in combat. The hands were made for wielding giant, bladed weapons so, what the hell were her measly human kicks going to do against them? The shoulders were guarded by heavy hexagonal armaments to fend off side assaults and the joints were protected by just as elaborate equipment so that when the command came to change form he could…

All of Lightning's attacks lulled to a stop as her head caught up with her analyses. Her breathing came heavy but, steadier as her eyes finally saw the creature as a whole and not in fractured pieces of frenzied confusion. The symbols at the center of the shoulder guards were scraped and scored from stone but, she recognized them nonetheless. The orange-brown details tainted by rust, had once shone gold in the sun. The yellowed spaces in between had glittered like pearls and emeralds beneath the crackling light of cast thunderbolts.

She found the place above the chest-plate and between the massive spaulders where the head would be, and found the last of the casing trying to force itself apart. With one more surge of supernatural power, the jagged pieces rolled back and up, switching into a fearsome, horned crown that made the glowing green of the eyes all the more wrathful in the heat of battle.

That glow was dimmed now, as she met the gem-like gaze and recognized the unmasked face completely. Although mutilated by the brutality of time, the silent, ageless wisdom of his stare made Lightning's heart swell in unmistakable recognition. Emotion compromised her voice, making her words fall out in a ragged whisper.

"I know you…"

A weak spark of acknowledgement flickered in the depths of his eyes, within which she could see herself reflected back. Her lip was bleeding. She only noticed because he noticed. The grip on her leg loosened and a weary moaning came from the rust-caked joints as he leaned forward. She remained motionless, frozen in shock and elation, hardly able to believe what was standing right in front of her. The gilded hand that had desperately pulled her back to him, slowly reached towards her bruised face.

"Sir, no! Sir!"

The moment broke with the resurgence of sound from the wall beyond. The crater had fallen still and silent once more in the wake of Lightning's realization but, whatever force that had held them all spellbound snapped when he moved towards her. They turned and looked back as one, finding the area of disruption. Noctis had taken advantage of his dazed employees to break out of their grip and vault over the lowest scaffold to the crater floor. Lightning saw the sparkle in the air around him before she saw his eyes bleed to red, and before she could call for him to stop, the body above her was already folding itself out for attack. An agonizing grinding sound came from his limbs, moving too fast for the atrophy that had held them dormant but, too intent with purpose to pay it head.

He ripped the colossal jade shield from his chest and pierced it into the ground behind her with one swift movement, making Noctis skid to a reluctant stop to summon his own weaponized force-field. When the translucent swords began to take shape, Lightning's misguided guardian reached back for his own. The double-bladed, serrated axe would smite through Noctis's defense before he could even think of reaching out for a sword. This realization poured control back into her senses, breaking her out of the awestruck inaction she laid in.

"Stop!" she screamed, thrusting herself up off her elbows and onto her knees.

The order was received with just as attuned promptness as if hundreds of years had never gone by without hearing her voice. His arm froze midway towards his weapon but, his ethereal stare remained fixed in mute hostility upon the dark stranger poised beyond his shield. Lightning pulled herself up to face level, leaning on one knee for support. While her thoughts were bewildered beyond measure, her words came as clear and comforting as a cloudless sky.

"It's okay."

Slowly, he looked back to her, uneasily abandoning his sight upon the enemy. She nodded once in assurance that she wouldn't ask him to stop unless she was sure that she was safe. His arm came obediently away from his weapon and hovered expectantly alongside her. He was waiting. An ancient longing for the loss of his steadfast master colored sadness into his innate gaze. He was waiting for his reason to exist. He was waiting for the word of belonging that only she could say. He was waiting for the sound of his own name.

"It's okay," she repeated, forcing the trembling out of her voice. "The war's over. You're okay now…Odin."

The living glow permeated his whole gaze, the word activating the latent power that had been sleeping within him for centuries. He resumed reaching for her, a new fervor to the motion. A single finger hovered a hair's breath above the wound in her lip before emanating a cool, soothing current that she automatically knew to be the medicinal magic he had always saved her with when she was on the brink of falling in battle. A sigh escaped her as the restorative spell seeped through the entirety of her body, knitting together scarred flesh. As the magic spread, she closed her eyes, and the canvas behind them turned white. Upon it came spectral outlines of a memory. It didn't belong to her and she felt herself smile in appreciation for his trust when she realized it was a memory of his own he wanted to share with her.

She couldn't make much sense of it at first. It was a mess of flashes and colored bolts of light. She managed to shape it into a battle, managed to recognize the frames of his Eidolon brethren warring against each other. She saw fire and people running from it. She saw catastrophic strikes of divine thunder hammering into the earth.

She was seeing the fabled Eidolon Wars and Odin was trying to explain its meaning to her. He was trying to tell her something of grave importance. He didn't have enough strength to tell her all of it though. The images flickered and began to fade until her vision was black again. When she opened her eyes, he was gone, and cupped within her palms was a crystal rose, veined with cracks and sputtering a tiny, dusky light from the center.

Pebbles hissed past her knees as Noctis appeared next to her, rushed to her side with concern coloring his eyes back to blue. She didn't really see him at first, the shape of his pale face coming as blurred lines to her eyes. She assumed that maybe she'd hit her head when she'd been pulled down and she was just dizzy. It would subside.

His hand on her shoulder told her it wasn't dizziness. When she felt him, she felt the lines of heat on her face. She blinked in surprise and looked down at the rose, finding a spattering of salty droplets upon its mirrored petals. Between the cracks, she saw the unbidden and soundless cascade of tears on her face, healed entirely by her lost and found again companion.

* * *

><p>The drive back to the house was devoid of conversation. Noctis didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. She said nothing, staring trance-like out the windshield as if lost in a dream. How could he ask her what happened when it was obvious she hardly knew herself? He tried to focus on the road but, his hands kept shaking on the wheel the entire way home.<p>

He pulled into the courtyard and Lightning let herself out like an automaton. Noctis's throat tightened as he watched her, moving as if on some unspoken command. Should he be worried? Or should he just give her space? Was it just some effect from the creature that he should let her handle on her own? What _the hell_ did he do?

He hurried out of the car after her, following her ascent of the stairs and pulling himself ahead to at least get the door for her. Before they were halfway up, the doors dragged inward, Katrina standing in the entrance. So focused was he on Lightning that he didn't see the drawn pensiveness of his maid's face and talked over her when she tried to speak.

"Put tea on or something," he ordered her as they came out of the cold and into the cozy foyer. "One of those calming ones you're always telling me about."

"Noct…"

"Or a soup, I don't know. Nothing too rich. Something simple. Is the fire going? Bring it into the library…"

"Noctis."

He stopped, halfway out of his coat. It wasn't Katrina who spoke. Noctis's reeling head steeled over as he realized that they weren't alone. He didn't turn to face the source of the voice automatically, eyes instead focused on the crippling worry plaguing the expression of his servant. It helped to collect himself. He took a deep breath through his nose and very placidly told Kat what he wanted done.

"Take care of her."

She sent a meek glance at their prone guest, whom blinked once and turned her head to look at him, slowly waking up from her reverie.

"Go with Kat," he told her.

Lightning's brow creased very slightly before turning her head the other way to take in the silhouette of the man standing in the entrance of the library doors. He was older, this man, with slicked back hair, smooth and black as a frozen lake at night. He had a stern face that was wrinkled in amiable lines. He used to be a man that laughed a lot, she thought but, he stood too straight now. The pinstripe suit held him in a cage, arms clasped at his back as if in shackles. She wasn't sure where that thought came from but, it vanished when Kat tugged gently at her arm. She complied with her directions without opposition, casting one last glance between the old man and the young prince.

"Regis," Noctis greeted, voice terse and indifferent.

As he closed up into his business veneer, Lightning realized who the stranger was. Their shoulders set in the same way and their faces were both masked by the same burden of unwanted purpose. The old man used to laugh a lot…with Noctis. Because that was his father.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Things learned during this chapter:

1. The writer is actually part bear and hibernates for the winter.

2. Noctis is actually a puppy.

3. Odin is one jealous and possessive little shit.

I was going back and re-reading everything to re-familiarize myself with the story and realized that literally every year that has gone by since this story was born, I go on a Fall-Winter hiatus once August ends. It never fails! I don't know what my problem is because I literally am not doing anything in life that takes up my time during those months. Yet, I still just mentally shut down for that entire half of the year. Really gotta break that.

For all you Odin lovers that mentioned wanting to see him in your reviews, ta daaaaa~ You have no idea how difficult it was for me to keep myself from hitting that Review Reply button and saying, "Don't worry, he's a'comin'." You're all too smart for me, I can never surprise you! More about the effect this sudden reunion will have on Lightning and her mission will become clearer as we move forward - and I _do_ intend to move forward at a quicker pace (THIS STORY WILL END BY THE FINISH OF THIS YEAR. I WILL MAKE IT HAPPEN.) Going to focus on answering any of the old questions that had been brought up in past chapters and finally venturing into actual romantic territory with these two idiots. c:

...Also, have I mentioned how lovely you all look today?


	10. Stay

_X ~ Stay_

Things hadn't been the same between Noctis and his father since Tenebrae had invaded. The privileged life they'd shared had crumbled with the city's defenses, as had their understanding of each other. War broke the locks on the cages where people kept their monsters imprisoned. The soft laughter that had defined their relationship since childhood had risen to the taciturn shouts that echoed around the chambers of the war council. Noctis had been content enough to follow Regis's example when it came to royal principles. On the matter of taking back Arcadia from the enemy though, their opinions were a battleground in of themselves. It took all of their fellow councilmen to restrain them when their conflicting views broke into arguments.

The tension rarely stayed behind in those meetings, evidenced in the present moment. Noctis waited until he heard the distant clap of the kitchen doors closing before he addressed his father again. Sidling around him with eyes set elsewhere, Noctis let himself into the study.

"What do you want?" he asked, although it was hardly a question; it was more like a dismissal before the man had even spoken.

Noctis crouched down and fed the dwindling fire in the hearth while Regis lingered in the doorway, a pausing maneuver he often used to close his composure in the event that it threatened to crack apart. Noctis kept his back to him, tired eyes on the tiny orange flames. It had been a long day – one of the longest in all his life – and he didn't have the patience for traversing the delicate spider's thread of temporary peace between them. Whatever he wanted, the sooner he stated his business, the sooner he could leave, and Noctis could deal with his more troubling issues.

His anxiety towards wanting to tend to Lightning, manifested in the form of impatience towards the effort it was taking to stoke the fire. With an annoyed snap of his fingers, the flames roared to life under some magical assistance. Much to his dismay, the action gave Regis a talking point to lead with.

"How are your abilities fairing?"

"Fine. What do you want?"

Noctis straightened to his feet, biting out the repeated words to speed the process along. Regis, being his father and therefore the original bearer of the Caelums' stubborn gene, wasn't about to concede.

"Can't a father just express a little concern towards the well-being of his son? Given your circumstances, I don't think it's too unbelievable for my intentions to be just as I've stated."

Noctis's hands flexed at his sides, the abilities in question sparkling unhappily in the wake of his restrained anger. Whether or not Regis's concern was genuine – it was hard to tell these days – Noctis didn't appreciate being coddled. He was more than capable of taking care of himself when it came to his powers. He wouldn't have been chosen for them otherwise. He shot a glare towards his father, eyes starting to turn red with spite.

"Do you want a demonstration to satisfy your curiosity?" he growled.

A flare of controlled outrage fired through the old, war-worn eyes that looked out, unseeingly, upon the world. Striding purposefully across the floor, Regis met Noctis at the fireplace, towering over him with all his kingly presence.

"Don't threaten to raise your swords on me, son. Your guardianship may have granted you the right to unchallengeable strength but, it didn't grant you a right to arrogance."

They held each other in an identically level glare – an inherited expression that each of the Caelums bore in times of callousness. However, Noctis was the most out of practice in that regard. His exile from the main house, and subsequent solitude, had sobered the indolent temper of his youth. Once in a while it would spark back to life, tempted out of his heart's depths beneath the pressure which the invasion weighed upon them all but, even then it barely lasted. He was too tired of fighting to keep it up.

Blinking the crimson avarice from his gaze, Noctis returned his sights to the fire, leaning a hand against the mantel. As the threat of his magic receded, it left a dull ache against the back of his eyes, one that he tried to massage away by rubbing circles against his temple.

"What's wrong?" Regis asked, voice softening when he noticed the discomforted gesture.

"Nothing," Noctis lied in a murmur.

He had yet to tell a soul but, ever since the first night he'd met Lightning, and she had touched the door in the basement, he had been out of balance with his powers. It had taken years for him to fully synchronize with them, and since then, he had become acutely aware of any intruding discord within them. While they were always in constant turmoil, he'd learned to equalize it enough to be able to use them for battle without collapsing to his knees from the strain. He wasn't certain that would be the case if he went into a fight in his present condition.

Regis studied his son with a mixture of discontent and practiced intuitiveness, scanning through the various physical tells that Noctis couldn't fully suppress. Regis read people like he read business proposals, picking out every finite detail that might grant him a view of the whole picture. Noctis had never been groomed to such silken royal perfection to the extent that his father had been, and for that he was grateful. Although he knew his father had a capacity for exhibiting warmth and compassion, there were times where, beneath the scrutiny of his dignified peers, he appeared more like an automaton than a human being. The fact that he could nearly read a person's mind just by catching their profile in a single glance, didn't lend well to proving that he wasn't a machine instead of a man.

"Does it have to do with that woman you came home with?"

Noctis remained silent in response, which was just as much of an admission as if he'd said "yes." When he kept his eyes fixed to the flames in blatant refusal to meet Regis's, his father broke away to begin pacing the room.

"It's the same woman from a few nights ago, isn't it? The one you were chasing down to the basement?"

"Does nothing I do go unmonitored?"

It wasn't an accusation. Noctis didn't find it surprising in the least bit that Regis might have seen for himself what had transpired. The glass-covered avenue along the side of the house faced the back rooms of the manor from across the yard. Although the hill obscured the avenue from the view of the lower levels, if one was on the higher floors, he could easily see through the outdoor hall. Regis was known to frequent the top-most areas of the manor, pacing about like a leashed wolf at the summit of the world. What shocked Noctis the most was that he hadn't stormed over that very night to demand an explanation as to why a strange woman, dressed like a soldier, was breaking into the most secret and sacred areas of the building. If Noctis could commend him for nothing else, it was his considerate restraint.

"I'm surprised you still have her around," Regis continued, electing to ignore Noctis's remark. "But, I suppose that means she's not from a party of interest in regard to the war; instead she's a… personal acquaintance of yours?"

Noctis rolled his eyes while his back was to him. Everything had to be such a scandal. Pulling a hand across his exhausted eyes, Noctis pushed himself off the mantel to deposit himself into the nearest chair.

"I'm allowed to have friend outside of the fold, aren't I?" he sighed, arms lolling off the sides of the chair.

"Of course you are. It's just that I've only ever known you to be cautious when conversing with outsiders. I'm thrilled yet, confused as to how you've suddenly become so comfortable with a stranger."

"You sound just like Ignis."

Although Noctis's gaze continued to remain fixed upon the hypnotic crackling of the fire, he could feel the look of amusement on his father's face.

"Yes, he did express a copious amount of concerns when he stopped by yesterday. I don't know what you've done to the poor man but, you've ruffled those perfectly preened feathers of his quite terribly."

"Neither of you have to keep worrying about me," Noctis mumbled, a pang of guilt pinching his chest at the memory of how things had ended between him and his friend.

"When you have a child of your own someday, you'll see why that's impossible."

Wherever Regis had gone in the room, he had ended up back next to Noctis's chair, landing a wrinkled hand onto his shoulder. He spared the amiable touch a half glance, wishing more than anything that this truce between them would last more than five minutes. There was nothing that he wanted more than to have their family go back to the way they were before the occupation. Yet, as the subtle tensing of Regis's knuckles now indicated, things were nowhere close to being the same again.

"I trust that your new friend isn't distracting you from negotiating with Princess Fleuret?"

"Negotiating," Noctis laughed, bitterly. "Does calling it that really help you sleep at night?"

"I know that she was your friend…"

"She still is my friend!"

Noctis abruptly rose from his seat, simultaneously batting away the hand of false fellowship from his shoulder. He rounded on his father, eyes narrow and chest tight.

"And you insist on using that friendship as a means of deception in order to further your own ends."

"It's not just _my_ own ends," Regis retorted. "It's all of our own ends: an end to this treachery between the families; an end to the fear of our country's people; and an end to this ceaseless war. If you didn't think that what you're doing might aid us in finishing this struggle, you wouldn't keep inviting her into your home."

"It's vile trickery. It's just the kind of under-handed tactic that gives people a reason to brand us as criminals!"

"The princess is not ignorant! Do you honestly think so little of her, that you believe she doesn't have the faintest idea as to what your meetings truly entail? She's the only member of the Fleuret family that wants this fighting to stop as much as we do. She keeps responding to your calls because she _wants_ to provide you with enemy weaknesses. Don't think for a second that she doesn't know exactly what she's saying when you talk to her."

Noctis could feel the anger bubbling to a boil again, in part because he hated that it was his father whom had been the initiator of the plan, and in part because he knew, despite not wanting to, that everything Regis had said had been true. The nobility wielded their tongues like swords, making every syllable strike like the stabs of a rapier. Words were as much ammunition in this war as gunpowder, and every shot that was landed on the enemy provided a precious advantage towards obtaining victory. Noctis and Stella were the most skilled in that field from their respective families, having to learn at a younger age than most of their predecessors how to survive on quick-worded logic alone.

Under the guise of trying to maintain their long-standing friendship, despite being on opposing sides, Regis had coerced Noctis into using his verbal prowess to coax unbidden information about the Fleuret's strategies from their princess. Much as he had fought and yelled and cursed against the loathsome idea, what Noctis hated the most was that he'd eventually gone along with it. It was deception which had started the war, and deception would thereby end it. And though he'd denied it, pushing it so far down into himself that it had been ground to a toxic powder, he knew that Stella was as much his partner in this endeavor as she was his victim. He wanted more than anything for the serpentine questions to have yielded unsuspecting answers but, Stella was as much a traitor to her clan as he thought he'd been to her. There was nothing he'd gleaned from her that hadn't been supplied voluntarily. The war had changed them both from the dove-soft children, giggling in the fields, to the slit-eyed vipers that spoke poison into every word. Even if those words were in aid of Noctis's side, the danger of Stella's betrayal to the Fleurets was enough to make him hate her compliance.

"I have no new information to share with you," Noctis said, voice as dark as the char on the firewood. "If that's what you came for, you can leave empty-handed."

Regis fixed him in a weighted stare, laden with restricted questions and the divide of broken trust that had torn between them. He could ask Noctis nothing without receiving a hostile answer, and Noctis could provide him with no honesty without feeling it was in danger of being used for dishonest purposes. They'd come to their next stalemate, then.

Regis withdrew, recognizing that his well-intentioned visit was as much an intrusion as the Tenebraens were in Arcadia. With a dignified bow of his silver-streaked head, he receded towards the doorway. Teeth kneading the inside of his lip, Noctis turned back to the fire, leaning both palms against the chiseled mantel overhead. At his back, Regis stole the final word, making his nails dig painfully into the marble.

"I hope you remember whose side you're on, son."

It took all of Noctis's strength not to whirl around and scream at him to "get out." He waited for the low booming of the front doors closing before he let out his held breath. It came in ragged shreds, hot against the hotter smoke billowing from the fire beneath his face. He squeezed his eyes shut against the throbbing in his skull and the returning words that Ignis had said to him.

_ "Do you no longer trust me?"_

Could he trust anyone who was associated with the Caelums, whether in name or allegiance? Was he selfish to wish that they all _didn't_ want him to play the part of the dutiful prince, and spout rehearsed speeches through the prison bars of the throne? Was it truly he who was in the wrong? Everyone seemed so in agreement with each other; everyone except for him. He seemed to be the only one that thought tricking Stella was a crime against her trust, yet even she acted like her pretend innocence in the betrayal of her clan was perfectly acceptable. He seemed to be the only one that thought true negotiation was the answer to a peaceful end to the war, while the rest of his family wanted the roads to run red with Tenebraen blood.

He seemed to be the only one that thought Lightning – the time-traveler; the former l'Cie; and the strongest woman he'd ever met – was not a danger but, a godsend. Everything that he thought was right, the world told him he was wrong, and he didn't know how much longer he could delude himself into ignoring that _he _was the one turning against the world, not the other way around.

His eyes were burning, and he convinced himself it was because of how deeply he was staring into the flames lashing beneath him. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he let go of the mantel and just fell into the fire. Would the parasitic magic leap to his rescue, even if he commanded it not to? His arms started to shake with the effort it took to keep from dropping himself in and finding out. Biting the harshness of his breaths back into himself, Noctis pushed himself away, and fled to his only remaining sanctuary.

* * *

><p>It took all of the time between the doors closing behind her and then them closing behind Regis, for Lightning to drag herself back into the present. While the realization that the man in the library doors had been Noctis's father had persistently tried to occupy her thoughts completely, it wasn't until the doors drummed a farewell to the man that she finally clicked back into place. In that time, Katrina had chattered incessantly as she situated Lightning in the kitchen, her constant pacing from one cupboard to the next, pulling out ingredient after ingredient, exposing her nervousness about what was going on in the library.<p>

However, Lightning couldn't bring herself to acknowledge nor comfort the girl's nerves. The shock of meeting Odin – in the ruins of New Bodhum, of all places – had left her dazed, like someone had hit her across the back of the head, leaving her to nurse an impending concussion. The maid's words came as indistinct garbles, as if straining through a thick net wrapped around Lightning's ears. Even the eventual soup that resulted in the girl's rampant quest through the cabinets, didn't appeal to Lightning's admiration towards Katrina's cooking.

All she could think about was the unexpected reunion with her old Eidolon, and even then, she was hardly thinking, merely repeating the events in her mind like a half-remembered dream. If her fingers didn't frequently brush over her breast-pocket, and feel for themselves the delicate outline of the rose through the material, she might have believed it was in fact a dream. She couldn't connect the significance of their meeting again to the reality of her purpose – of which she still knew little to nothing about. She could just barely comprehend that it made things more complicated but, she didn't know how.

Odin, with the infinite and stoic wisdom of the Eidolons, knew about her quest, and he'd tried to tell her that the Eidolon Wars were in some way connected. He was too weak in his atrophied state to tell her any more. Her thoughts should have been grinding against each other to make sense of it all, but all she could think of was the immense relief that had surged through her upon reforging their connection. While the whole world had been a reminiscent battleground, it wasn't familiar to her in the way that Odin was. Her Eidolon was the one thing that belonged solely to her. It was the one thing that only she knew the secrets of. Every minute detail of the armor and every idiosyncrasy of the movements were tailored specifically to her expertise. No one else could wield the power of Odin but her, and that gave her a boundless sense of security.

The silence which followed the sound of the closing doors was eerily heavy, contributed to by the halting of Katrina's babbling. Lightning glanced at her, focusing on the pinched areas along the corners of her mouth to use as grapples for drawing herself back to the present. The maid's eyes were set skyward and her head slightly turned to the side, as if listening for something. Lightning could hear nothing but the muted creaks of the old house in the winter breeze. After a long, hesitant moment where Lightning observed the worrisome nibbling Katrina was giving her lower lip, she got up from her seat at the kitchen island and headed towards the doors.

"W-Wait! Where are you going?" Katrina yelped, stumbling after her with a reaching arm, as if to try and catch her.

"If you won't check on him, I will."

"No! You shouldn't…"

"Shouldn't?"

Lightning stopped with her hand on the kitchen doors, sending her a piercingly analytical stare. The hand Katrina had thrown out to try and contain her was about half an inch too close to Lightning's arm for her to tolerate. Under the intensity of her stare, Katrina quickly drew it back to her side, fearful of dismemberment. Lightning's eyes narrowed to sharp points as she surveyed her, noting the conflicted look in her moss-green eyes.

"'Should not' isn't 'do not,'" she explained to the girl, contemplating her choice of words.

Fidgeting uncomfortably beneath the imperturbable stare, Katrina told her, "Noctis usually wants to be alone after visits with his father."

"But, you don't think he should be."

She said nothing in response but, her down-turned expression said it for her. Taking that as her incentive, Lightning turned back to the doors, only pausing one more time when Katrina provided her with a helpful tip.

"If he's not in the library, he'll be on the roof, and you'll have to go through his room to get there. There's a fire escape out the window."

Lightning nodded her acknowledgement and crooked a smile at her, half of reassurance and half of thanks, before marching out into the dining room. Yet again, Lightning found herself confused as to why she felt compelled to express such concern for the mysterious prince. His family issues were the absolute last thing she had any right to get involved in. Despite being conscious of that fact, it didn't stop her from stepping out of the dining room and peering into the study. It also didn't stop her from going directly up the stairs, as Katrina had instructed, when she found that the study was vacant.

For a flicker of a moment, Lightning saw herself walking in the footsteps of her own sister. Whenever Lightning had insisted that she "needed to be alone," her persistent sister never allowed her to be. Serah had always been so much wiser than her. She saw right through Lightning's tough façade in those moments. While she had always claimed that all she needed was herself, her ordeal as a l'Cie, in addition to her confusion through the future, had proven her wrong. It made those times where Serah had been there for her, when no one else would, finally make sense to her. And if Noctis was anything like her – and she was finding that they had more in common than she'd realized – then, the request to "be alone" was merely a front, when being alone was the last thing he wanted, or needed.

She found the old door that she'd seen Noctis come and go out of the most, and tested the knob. As expected, it didn't give way automatically. Bracing her shoulder against the aged wood, Lightning pressed her full weight into it. With a groan and a pop, the door swung in, nearly dropping Lightning on her face if she hadn't been holding fast. Gathering herself and straightening up, Lightning scanned her new surroundings, trying not to feel like an intruder. It wasn't much different than her own guest room – which shocked her, having assumed that a prince might allow himself a few more luxuries. It was sparse, neat, and almost looked like it had never been lived in. She tried not to focus too keenly on the details, knowing she'd hate it if someone snooped around in her bedroom.

There was a French window which sat ajar across from the door, letting in the cool night air. Shivering in displeasure at the invasive cold, Lightning approached the window. Beyond it was a thin balcony, whose sole purpose seemed to be paving the way to the fire-escape while making it look less like an eye-sore. Pulling her newly acquired jacket around herself and making sure Odin was secure in her pocket, Lightning moved along the balcony and gripped the rails of the fire-escape, her boots making metallic taps against the iron.

When she found him, he was the most decomposed in manner as she'd ever seen him. It didn't take much to dispel the illusion he'd crafted of the untouchable mob king's prince. Slim hands knotted roughly through black lacquer hair, and his shoulders were screwed up so tight that they gave him the hunched silhouette of a gargoyle. Amidst the dark spires and slopes of the sprawling rooftop, she almost would have mistaken him as one. With his back to her, he growled out a warning.

"How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?"

"If that's the way you talk to your servant girl, I'm amazed she hasn't quit yet."

Noctis stiffened and cast an incredulous glance backwards, she being the apparent last person he'd expected to find him. Lightning took some grim satisfaction from the knowledge that she could catch him off guard, just as much as he could her. Spurred on by this confidence, Lightning carefully slid her way down the slant of the roof until she reached him, perched perilously against the edge where a metal-covered pipe – which she could only assume served as a gutter – striped along the edge.

"Unfortunately for you," she said, hooking the heels of her boots against the pipe as she sat. "I don't take orders, even if you paid me to."

Twilight had descended in deep purple veils, tinting the snow-drifts lilac in the gloom. The first bulbs of starlight were winking awake overhead, all the more vivid without the synthetic city beams to dim them. If she focused on it, Lightning wondered if the sky would be the same as the one she looked up at from around the l'Cie's campfire, so many centuries ago. Her own memories weren't her focus, though. Pulling her gaze away from the darkening sky, she found Noctis's face had fallen into shadow, pointedly turned away from meeting her eyes. She briefly considered that she may have misjudged their similarities, and her presence was more unwelcome than how she used to feel when Serah found her. After all, she was a far cry from the warm whispers of comfort her sister always had ready.

"What are you doing up here?" Noctis asked, his tone kept forcibly flat to conceal the emotion she'd already seen in his posture.

"Usually, when I wanted to be alone, I was lying," she explained.

She recalled the other night, when she first learned of his identity, and how she'd bolted out into the snow. Sitting by herself on the bench, left to the dangers of her own thoughts, had nearly broken her. "_Let doubt take over, and despair will cripple you_," had been what she had once said to her youngest companion, yet still, she'd nearly let it happen to her. Having Noctis appear to sit a silent vigil beside her had helped to keep her together, for which she would owe him, eternally. Judging by his silence, and thereby his lack of refusal in accepting her company, suggested to Lightning that he understood her reason for being there – and that even he might be grateful for it.

"To her credit," Lightning said, drawing from memory the technique Serah had used to first lighten the mood, "Kat did try to stop me."

"I hope you refrained from damaging her primary bodily functions."

"She'll pull through."

She earned a small laugh out of Noctis, although it sounded slightly uncertain – as if he wasn't sure whether she was joking or not, and his employee was indeed bleeding out somewhere, begging for help. When the laugh stopped, the quiet that followed was strained with unasked questions on both sides, and they were competing with themselves over who should break in first. Lightning made a calculated decision that if she'd taken the initiative to go and find him, she should be the one to ask first. Also, she ran the risk of him getting a head-start with his deflection tactics if she didn't act quickly...

"Did you eat something?"

As if he'd been reading her freaking mind, he punctured her pent-up ball of prepared consolations with a diversion, just as she'd anticipated. How _in the hell_ wasn't she fast enough to trump him? Biting her back teeth together to keep from barking out an expletive of frustration, Lightning turned back ahead, grumbling, "I wasn't hungry."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his head bob in a vague nod but, she wasn't sure what it was meant to be in response to. It troubled her. In the limited time she'd known him, she'd come to expect each and every one of his gestures to be executed with the clearest of intent. Nothing he said or did came without purpose, so, the emptiness of that nod filled her with an unexpected dread. She stole the opportunity to get the words out that he'd beaten her to.

"Was that your father?"

Although she already knew the answer, she figured it was a better opener than the thoughtless sterility of "Are you okay?" She hated that question. Resting her arms on her knees, Lightning tried not to stare too fixedly at Noctis while awaiting his reply. While she wasn't the most patient of people, she figured now was a good time to learn how to be. She owed it to him, in return for his own poised stoicism against her baseless temper, to not pressure him into answering her own questions. A considering pause mounted between them as he grappled with his reservations over the subject but, he eventually came to the conclusion that she wasn't going to leave him alone until he talked. He supposed he deserved that as payback for all the fussing he'd done over her the past few days.

"Is the resemblance that uncanny?" he said, dryly, tugging a hand through his hair again, as if searching for the silver streaks that distinguished Regis from him.

"Sort of. What did he come to talk about?"

An added rigidity came into the tension of his shoulders as he was forced to recall the circumstances of the visit. A flicker of doubt pinched at Lightning's heart, again wondering if she was over-stepping her boundaries.

"It's complicated," he said, quietly, uncertainty in his voice, as if he didn't know if that was the right word.

"More complicated than a former, mythological l'Cie, traveling through time and awakening extinct Eidolons, with no idea how or why?"

"It sounds pretty straight-forward when you say it," he chuckled but, it was a weak noise.

Lightning caught him in a hard glance, then. This was tougher than she thought – "this" being the whole "comforting thing." Maybe her problem was that she didn't know him well enough to offer the appropriate assurances. Perhaps the reason Serah's accompaniments into her solitude worked so well was because she knew Lightning, inside and out. She knew how everything she said would affect Lightning. Noctis was still uncharted territory; there was still much she had yet to learn about him, and those unknown truths were keeping her tongue tied behind her teeth. How did she know that anything she ventured to say wouldn't just make him feel worse?

Why should she care? The thought slammed some clarity into her conflicted head. Of course, she cared about treating him fairly, enough to try not being insensitive but, she was caring in the wrong way. She was trying to immolate Serah but, Serah wasn't what Noctis needed. Different people needed different things to keep them equalized. Sometimes, Lightning needed the steady, candle-flame of Serah's warmth to take the bite out of her frostbitten shield. Unlike her, Noctis was coming to a simmer, his glacial cool-headedness melting into a puddle of a mess. Adding more heat to the already dripping iceberg would only make it collapse faster. So, he needed an arctic gust to pull him back together.

"Listen," she started, running on this new instinct. "I get that there are things you don't want to tell me, and that's fine. I don't want to tell you some things, either. I didn't come up here, expecting you to bleed your heart out to me but, instead of keeping it boarded up inside until it gets strong enough to claw its way out, you can share some of that chaos with me. I know I haven't done much to prove it but, I want to help you as much as you've helped me. So, just tell me what's bothering you."

It wasn't so cold as to sound selfish – at least, she hoped it hadn't – and it wasn't so compassionate as to sound smothering. She hadn't the faintest idea if that was the right way of going about saying it but, it was the best she could do. She pondered whether or not it would have been wiser to steal a page out of his book and simply appear, only to remain silent but, she figured he'd still outmatch her in that department. So, she forced herself to sit and wait out the result… which was silence.

Noctis said nothing in reply, sitting as still as death, with the messy fringe of his bangs shading his eyes. Something inside Lightning tightened, and as much as she tried to deny it, she recognized it as the feeling of rejection. She'd felt it the first time that Serah had introduced her to Snow, and she'd realized that there wasn't room for her by her sister's side with that blonde's broad shoulders taking up so much space. She'd felt it when she woke up on the blue ice of Lake Bresha, and realized that Cocoon had forsaken her to the grim purpose of her Focus.

He didn't want her there. She'd been wrong to march into his self-imposed exile like she was the answer to all his problems. _What the hell were you thinking? _She didn't understand the coils of tumult that began to curl in the pit of her stomach as a result of that question. It didn't matter what she'd been thinking. Absolutely nothing she'd been thinking since being sent there had made any sense. Why would she expect her thoughts in these circumstances to make any sense either? Strangling the pinched feeling into submission, Lightning firmed her jaw and straightened her spine like she'd been taught as a soldier, and pushed herself back onto her feet. When presented with failure, you had two options: try again or bow out gracefully. It was your call, and you had to live with the consequences of your choice. She chose the latter, assuming that if she kept pushing, she'd only break the tremulous trust between them.

Resigned to her failure, Lightning turned to make the climb back up the roof, closing herself off from the unfamiliar feelings tumbling around inside her. Before she'd taken half a step up, she was anchored back down. Her halted ascent wasn't abrupt in the physical sense but, her mental unpreparedness made it feel all the more sudden. She'd only felt his hand around hers once before and the feeling was still alien to her, so much so that for a brief moment, she didn't know how she had come to a standstill. She glanced down, brow furrowing as she took in the lithe and pale fingers, hooked around her own slender ones. It was a different sensation than the first time. Without the sword-marked leather of battle-worn gloves between them, the feeling of his skin against hers was raw in comparison.

The gloves had been as much a guard against the fierceness of battle as they were against the sensitivity of another's touch. Currents of desperation that never showed on his face, coursed from his fingertips and into hers. The heated emotion she'd seen in the way that they had run through his hair, poured out to warm her own chilled digits. All this she could feel through the tiniest touch, while his face was still turned away from her. She stayed where she was, letting him hold onto her without barking out an order for him to do the opposite. While she could feel his need for companionship in the way his fingers squeezed hers, she could also feel his anxiety, as if he thought that through this gesture, he was not only holding onto her but, also holding her back. By staying still, she gave him the time and the evidence to figure out for himself that she was there by her own volition, and there was nothing but her own desire to help him keeping her there. If she didn't want to stay, she would have slapped his hand away before she let it rein her backwards.

"You have an unusual way of getting to people, Lightning," he finally said into the darkening gloom.

She smiled in spite of herself, offering a nearly imperceptible squeeze of her own fingers around his as she lowered herself back down next to him. Trained as he was in helping ladies down stairs or out of cars, he didn't even need to look up to help her back to her seat. When she was seated, she expected he would let his hand fall away, back to his side but, it lingered around hers for a moment more than was anticipated. Lightning forced herself not to stare outright at the intertwined appendages between them, even though the prolonged connection was making the tumbling in her stomach intensify. After the moment passed, and he let his fingers slip from hers like rain through tree leaves, she found herself biting the inside of her mouth to keep herself from reaching back out for them. Instead, she let her now empty fingers curl into her palm and focused on not letting her befuddled thoughts distract her from what Noctis went on to say.

"Can you just answer me one question? That would help the most."

"Shoot," she said, eyes on the violet-hued horizon as she tried to calm her fluttering stomach.

He took a pause to organize his words, which wasn't something she thought he had to do often. Although quiet by nature, words seemed to come naturally when they were required of him. Even if they were received in the way he had not intended, he rarely had to think before speaking; he trusted in his years of practice to always say the correct thing. Presently though, it seemed like he had lost faith in that trust, which only made Lightning all the more fretful as to the content of his father's conversation with him. Finally deciding on the most ideal way of articulating his question, Noctis spoke, voice as soft and as dark as the twilight.

"Have you ever felt as if you were too small to survive the rest of the world?"

The silence which enclosed them was laden with suspense on Noctis's side, and deep reflection on Lightning's. The accuracy of the question in relation to her own circumstances, both past and present, haunted her as it floated, unanswered, around them. Of course she knew that feeling. Of course she knew what it felt like to stand as an army of one in opposition of a world which didn't want her. Whether in past Cocoon or present Pulse, she'd always been fighting against entire planets by herself. In a brief moment of suicidal insanity, she had wanted to lead an attack on the heart of Cocoon, and the stunned silence she'd gotten in response had made her feel as though all of reality had compressed around her, shrinking her down to size.

"Yeah," she said out loud, feeling a comforting pulse from Odin as she did. "I know that feeling well."

"How do you keep yourself from being crushed by it?"

A change in his voice made her turn her head to look at him, and her throat tightened at the look in his eyes as they finally fixed on her from the shadows. There was emptiness in the pale blue hues, like dead grass exposed from beneath melted snow. It terrified her. All this time, he'd been a constant for her in an unpredictable situation. He'd stayed the same through all of her outbursts and indecision. When she was the one who made the situation unpredictable, he'd remained a steady reminder of what patience could accomplish. He kept a cool head while she could not but, now it seemed their roles were reversed.

She didn't know what the troubled man in the pin-stripe suit had said to Noctis but, she wasn't going to ask. She didn't know why there was a wrestling tournament going on inside of her but, she didn't care. She didn't know a whole lot of things but, she knew that, for the first time, _he_ needed _her_, not the other way around. Despite whatever had happened to bring that lost look to his eyes, it was her job now to fill it back up. Damn her if she wasn't going to step up to the plate.

"You just have to make yourself bigger," she said, slowly; thoughtfully. "The world's going to try beating you down anyway but, you can make it so that it doesn't affect you as much. Giants step over mountains but, mountains don't break. You don't have to make yourself bigger than the world but, just big enough to withstand the weight of it. And you can't do it on your own all the time. You're going to need help, and you'll find it in the people you love. It was almost too late for me when I realized that, but your friends can keep the ground from coming apart beneath you if you need them to. You have to trust that there are just some things you can't do on your own, and when those things come along, have someone who will give you their hand to pull you up. That's the best you can do."

His dark brows sloped gently together as he thought. His gaze was still dulled but, she could see the returning shimmer lurking just beneath the surface.

"That's what you did before?" he asked, still contemplating her words.

"Yeah…"

"What do you do now, here, where you don't have those friends?"

"I find myself another hand."

She tapped the top of his hand, resting on the roof shingles, and smiled her most reassuring smile. It must have been enough because he finally smiled back. The fluttering in her stomach matched the swelling beats of her heart as she spotted the hint of his suppressed child's smile climbing back to the surface.

"Have you ever had to deal with your family like this?"

"Not exactly," she said, looking off into the distance again as if she could see home through the stars. "Serah made it easy, honestly. _I_ was the relative that everybody wanted to avoid."

"That's your sister, right? Serah? You mention her like she's the only family you have."

Lightning quieted again, the memories she was playing against the dark canvas of night, turning towards ones she'd much rather forget. She should have figured this might come up, what with talk of families and such. Still, she'd never fully mastered the unaffected face she put on when the subject arose, even if she was prepared for it.

"Yeah, it's just the two of us," she replied, the words grinding out like crumpled paper caught between two rusted gears.

"What happened to your parents? Or would you rather I not ask?"

He was starting to regain solemnity over his voice, speaking with acute consideration towards a possibly sensitive issue. He provided her with an escape route, should she desire it but, since she hadn't offered him as much, she figured he deserved no cowardice from her.

"You can ask but, there's not much to tell," she said in a gusty sigh. "They died and Serah and I were on our own. We did the best we could under impossible circumstances. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. That's all."

It was enough for him, and she was grateful. It didn't take a whole lot to satisfy him – not that this particular insight was in any way satisfying. He understood when to stop pushing, which told Lightning he was piecing himself back into his cool impenetrability. She should do the same, she thought to herself, unclenching her fingers from where they'd been unconsciously digging into her knees. After a long interlude where the only sound was the easy breathing of the winter wind, they each put themselves back together from their respective torments, and it was Noctis who was the first to break in again.

"That was a great speech, by the way – about mountains and what have you," he said, voice lightening with an airy laugh.

"Don't get used to it," she snorted. "You caught me on a weird day."

"I'll say. You have your own Eidolon!"

She chuckled at his smiling disbelief, shaking her head in her own as she withdrew the crystal from her pocket. She adjusted herself so she was facing Noctis to better show him the eidolith, knowing he was fascinated by it and more than happy to change the subject. Odin's rose was still frayed around the edges, and the crimson glow was still faint but, it seemed that the longer he stayed close to his master, the stronger the glow was getting.

"You seemed to be familiar with it," Noctis said, watching the light pulsate against her palms.

"Him," she corrected. "Odin is his name. And yeah, we were partners before I got sent here. All of us l'Cie had Eidolons by the end of our battle."

"How do they work? I mean, are they like people in the sense that they have emotions, or are they more like machines?"

"It's hard to say for sure but, I'd lean towards the former. I know that I can feel what he's feeling. I felt him when we connected back at the dig site."

"Connected?"

Lightning glanced up to find a confused and slightly troubled look on his face. She internally bristled, thinking she'd unconsciously said something to set him back but, the interest which he viewed the eidolith with assured her that it wasn't the case. It didn't assure her not to be worried for other reasons though.

"So, you feel what each other feel?" Noctis pursued, eyes on the weary pulse of the crystal.

"Basically," she answered, brow furrowing in suspicion. "The Eidolons choose their l'Cie when they reach the deepest pit of despair. The goddess sends them to help put us back on the path to our Focus, or to execute us before we turn into Cie'th. If we succeed at overcoming our despair, the Eidolons become a part of us and come to our aid in battle."

Her explanation only appeared to unsettle him further, and she couldn't tell if it was resultant of the foreign terminology or a previously un-discussed familiarity.

"It's amazing," he said, caught up in his own thoughts, "just how little we know about you."

Lightning had been thinking the same whenever some of his history books stopped before the Fall of Cocoon. She'd never appreciated the value of cataloging their heritage until realizing her own wasn't. How could one learn from their mistakes if they pretended that they didn't exist? If the present Pulsians had been educated about the genocide caused by the fal'Cie's greed, would they still be at war over this illusive crystal? Could they have learned better what the price of ultimate power was?

"I'm sorry about trying to attack him earlier," Noctis said, although his eyes were on the eidolith, as if he were trying to apologize to Odin directly.

"I'm sure he forgives you, and that he says he's sorry, too," Lightning said, a smirk crossing her lips as the rose's glow sputtered, disagreeably.

"You're not hurt then?" Noctis asked, his gaze pulling up to look her over. "You seem… better than you were on the ride home."

"Meeting Odin again was a shock but, not as shocking as your lunch proposal."

She didn't need to be looking at him to see the rush of pink rise up into his cheeks as she tucked Odin back into her pocket. Face turned away, she fought the corners of an amused grin back down into an indifferent line.

"Forgive me if that was too forward," he hastily apologized, his brain no doubt tearing through his "Prince's Handbook" in search of a proper remedy to his alleged boldness. "I didn't think…"

"…that a massive, half-metal monster would awaken from its ancient slumber and throw the entire excavation sight into disarray? Who could have predicted that?"

He stared at her for a moment, unable to comprehend that she was joking by the impassiveness of her face. She let his mind churn for a moment before breaking the façade with a half-smile, and putting him at ease. He chuckled at his own expense but, his face was still tinged with a soft blush.

"I'm sorry that the day didn't quite go as planned."

"Nothing ever does if I'm involved. Don't blame yourself; I'm the one who's a bad luck charm."

His laugh was breathy with exhaustion and relief. The unnerving tension which had been plaguing him seemed to have dissipated for the moment. She had a sinking suspicion that he'd been carrying it around for much longer: since whatever happened with him and Ignis at the Marketways; since her run-out during his meeting with Stella; maybe even since that "dispatch" on the first night she'd met him. She couldn't be sure but, she liked the change.

She liked it when he smiled.

"I'm sorry we couldn't do it today," she said, the somersaulting in her stomach finally beginning to calm. "Lunch, I mean… Maybe some other time?"

The inquiry slipped off her tongue without her consent. It came as an afterthought, and one she hadn't fully considered the implications of before it escaped. Even as it threaded its way between them out loud, she didn't recognize what it meant. Noctis was taken unawares by it for only a second, his own reply coming just as out of his control as hers had.

"Any time."

The two statements interlocked in agreement, and even then, Lightning didn't feel hurdled into disassembly by them. In fact, it felt like the most natural thing to have said. It wasn't often she felt that way, and it was even less often that she felt the need to question that naturalness. She'd adopted the mentality that "normal" translated to "suspicious." When the battlefield went silent, it meant the enemy was gearing up for a massive attack. She'd taught herself to take that warning into everything she did. It didn't come to apply itself to this though.

"Getting cold?" Noctis said into the content quiet.

"Freezing."

With that, they got to their feet to head back inside. However, it was back to helping themselves up rather than helping each other, even in light of their mutual camaraderie towards one another. Lightning could still feel a lingering rush of longing, trembling on the tips of her fingers, and she wouldn't chance breaking the light-heartedness between them by touching him again. It was a feeling she could not explain and had no desire to try, at least not right then.

Once on their feet, Noctis stalled for a moment longer, facing her. His jaw was working as if there was something stuck in it, and she knew what it was. He wanted to say "thank you" but, the look she fixed him in said that it wasn't necessary. As he met it, an unspoken agreement sailed between them that if he could see her at her worst – shivering alone on a bench in the night – then, she could see him at his – ripping through his hair on the icy rooftop.

It was a fair trade. They acknowledged this without any need for words, two weary warriors reading each other's thoughts. Noctis's head moved slightly, a small gesture akin to a nod but, not quite. Whatever it was, this one had meaning, unlike the last, and that was the last sign Lightning needed to know he was fine. Whether or not her brusque method of consoling had been the cause, she couldn't be sure, and she didn't quite care. So long as he was smiling that young boy's smile, it was good enough for her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **What's this? An update? And it hasn't been five months? Is this the real life?!

Hell yeah, bet you didn't think this was going to happen any time soon! I was actually planning on having it done earlier but, for some reason, no matter how many times I live through it, I keep forgetting that February is the shortest month of the year and thereby cuts me some days to work on my chapters. Plus, the crapload of snow I had to shovel during that month put me back a couple weeks too. But, now it's March! And I can actually see the ground in front of my house again! I figured, if that miracle could happen, then so could this chapter. Huzzah! (And successfully updating a fic is an early birthday present to myself. :P)

I'm a little obsessed with "Pride & Prejudice" at the moment so, that whole hand thing was probably a result of that - and I regret nothing! That's actually the type of love story I'd like to model this one after so, here's to hoping I can keep that up.

Also, we reached ten chapters! Hooray! Only about thirteen more to go eheh. To commemorate this tenth chapter occasion, I am actually going to respond to your reviews like I've very rarely done because I'm a pansy. So, if you've got questions, I may or may not have answers. Or if you just want to fangirl the frig out, we could just do that too. It'll be reviewer appreciation month so let me snuggle you!

Lastly, if you're ever curious about the progress of this story - or anything else - I've taken to including a little "status bar" near the top of my profile here to keep everyone in the loop. It's frequently updated so you always know where the progress of this thing is going so, check it out if you're ever worried!

That's all folks! Hope you enjoy. :)


	11. Secrets

_XI ~ Secrets_

She was incredible. The more time he spent with her, the easier it was becoming to find words that might be deserving of fitting her description. Just when he thought that he'd figured her out, she kept on surprising him. He never would have suspected that she'd be the one to find him on the roof. He never would have guessed that she would ask him what was wrong. After she hadn't asked him why he was upset at the Marketways, he had assumed that when it came to his personal life, she wouldn't ask him anything at all. Now, he was learning that, depending on the severity of the situation, she had no qualms against prying open his mouth to get him to vent.

Noctis thought that he might be angry about that and had surprised himself when he wasn't. He hadn't known how much he needed to share his solitude until she came up and sat beside him. If he needed her to listen, she'd listen; and if he needed her to say something, she'd say something. Lightning was intuitive and decisive. He'd figured that out early on but, the significance of those qualities in relation to his own shortcomings had never been realized to Noctis until that night.

The days that followed passed too quickly. They were filled with a muted happiness, unexpected in light of the complications of Lightning's "visit," still yet unknown. While the hours supplied fewer answers about her circumstances than he would have liked, they did provide him with much more valuable insights. He was getting to know her; _really_ getting to know her. While they had grown comfortable with each other after their initial misunderstandings, he'd interpreted it as a professional relationship and not one particularly of friendship. Even the exchange of nicknames on the evening of her meeting his companions hadn't convinced him that they had established a more personal acquaintance. The rarity in which they addressed each other as such afterwards, provided him with further evidence of theirs being a purely indifferent correspondence.

At present, that impersonal tone had simmered down to clear room for a more affectionate one. He couldn't remember which one of them had started speaking less formally to the other. At some point, their tones of voice had become more fluid when addressing each other and less restricted by self-preservation. She was the first to crack a joke within their newly-formed communications, something that had caught him by surprise upon its first occurrence. She had been practicing summoning her Eidolon, in a secluded little outdoor acre that Noctis had cleared for her, making certain it was an area not within sight of his "neighbor." He was just about to leave her to her own devices – much against the hunger of his own curiosity – when she'd called him back.

"Where are you going? If you keep chickening out on me, you'll just stoke his ego even further."

He'd laughed, endeared by her dry sense of humor and even more amused by how familiarly she referred to Odin. With Noctis's first experience being most unpleasant, associating the wrathful being with such tender camaraderie came off as completely comical. That she had complete control over a beast which he had only ever known to be capable of catastrophic warfare, put him in awe. So, he just laughed and she smiled at said laugh. They shared many more after that one.

Lightning was successful with conjuring Odin from his eidolith and Noctis was fortunate enough to witness it three times during that week. It wasn't a challenge for her. She'd teased that it still felt like yesterday when she'd last ridden him into battle. Noctis had been confused over the term "ridden" but, she failed to elaborate, too anxious about getting Odin out of the crystal. The only hint of indecision Noctis noticed the first time she tried was when she touched the base of her chest, a crease coming to her brow before she recalled the crystal from her pocket.

He'd asked her about the gesture and she'd explained that Eidolons' crystals had manifested from the brands of their l'Cie. When reminded that she was no longer such, an imperceptible touch of elation had lifted the corners of Lightning's lips, fascinating the prince even further. Odin was just as impressive and intimidating as he was the first time they'd met, blooming out from his crystal rose in a mighty flourish of sparkling dust and scarlet runes. He was growing considerably less dented and dirty, letting the brilliance of his armor show in the sunlight. Given the unmistakable bond between Eidolon and master, Noctis attributed the gradual repairs of the creature to its feeding off of Lightning's energy. The parasitic nature of the connection would have troubled him if not for the generally positive effect it was also having on Lightning.

Since reuniting with her companion, Lightning was becoming increasingly…brighter. The profundity of her bond with the ancient entity had drawn more frequent smiles from her tightly sealed lips, and as he gained more strength from her, she in turned gained more from him. The significance of Odin's return to her was not lost on Noctis. The Eidolon provided for her in an instant what Noctis had been trying to give all along: security and a sense of home. Despite his best efforts to make her feel like more than just a guest, she would never feel like she was at home. He didn't expect her to. However, Odin had finally been able to give her a feeling of belonging that Noctis had never been able to. He was grateful for that.

In addition to the successes with Odin, Noctis had been bonding with Lightning in various other areas. She continued to astutely study as many books in his library as was possible and he continued to faithfully serve as her research guide. They'd also taken to sparring with each other down in the gym, sometime towards the middle of the week. Noctis was particularly fond of the presented challenge – and it was definitely a challenge. She got him onto his back first and he couldn't say that he was shocked. He hadn't gone easy on her – he'd never think to give her any less than one hundred percent – and although he rivaled her in combat experience, she still came out on top. Literally. He'd tumbled over from a swipe to his legs and she'd straddled him to the floor, smirking in victory.

He'd laughed then, too, exhilarated by the intensity of the mock fight. He hadn't been up against such an even match in a long, _long_ time. He couldn't remember the last time he'd sweated so much. There was a fervor to Lightning's brand of combat that incited a tremendous amount of effort from her opponent in order to keep up. Even with his coolly trained head, her movements _demanded _that his mind start racing to try and foresee her blows. He'd said it to himself once, and he'd say it again: _she was incredible_. He might have even said it out loud that day, although he couldn't remember much in his breathless state. He remembered her husky chuckle as she helped him to his feet though, and he remembered asking how soon they could go at it again. By the end of the week, they were tied in score for amount of wins.

The snow was starting to melt as the temperature began to rise, which meant more visits from Noctis's friends. Sometimes they were expected, sometimes they weren't, and those times made Lightning stiff with unpreparedness. Nevertheless, Noctis liked to think that she was slowly warming to Prompto, especially when Gladiolus was there to keep him in line. During those visits, they would try touring the grounds as far as the snow would let them or they would lounge about various rooms of the house and just talk. None of these visits included Ignis.

Although he was certain that Lightning was more than thrilled by his valet's absence, the effect of the separation was beginning to wear on Noctis. Rare were the times that he couldn't account for his friend's whereabouts, as those whereabouts were almost always directly at his side. The more days that passed without his confidant, the more Noctis wanted to run out, find him, grab him by his pointy hair, and pull the spoiled brat card of ordering him back into his good graces, whether he liked it or not. He'd wanted to ask his remaining companions about their senior every time that they dropped by but, every time he tried, trivial questions came out of his mouth instead – How's your mother? What's the news elsewhere?

While his distress for Ignis only continued to grow, Noctis couldn't say that the same was felt for his father. He didn't meet with Regis again that week, officially or otherwise. Their previous confrontation still left knots of discord in Noctis's stomach whenever he thought of it so, instead he focused on the things that made him happy. That week, following the turmoil of the prior, was one of blissful reprieve. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so content – he might have never felt so in his entire life. Things were quiet as far as the war went; they were still stuck in the same stalemate that they'd been in for nearly a decade and one week of just letting himself leave it alone, wouldn't change that for either good or bad.

He let himself be happy. He let Prompto's jester grin and Gladiolus's booming laugh make him happy. He let his dutiful mother hen, Katrina, enthusiastically tending to her two charges, make him happy. He let Lightning make him happy. He let her razor-edged concentration give him purpose, and let her indefatigable determination give him hope that all of their endeavors would one day be rewarded. Watching her work – whether it be over a book, a punching bag, or her Eidolon – gave him a sense of completeness. As he'd observed before, Lightning always appeared so _whole,_ even with pieces missing, and he'd never stop admiring her for that. The sureness with which she carried herself gave him the confidence to believe that even his own troubles could somehow be conquered. Although she was oblivious to the effect she had on him, he still felt that he owed her for instilling such a feeling within him.

So, when she asked about the basement on one cloudy afternoon towards the end of the week, he felt that the time had come to finally repay her. He'd found her leaning against the wall near the door out to the walkway, arms and ankles crossed; face pensive. He paused in the doorway to the dining room from whence he came, concern flooding across his features. She'd been "conversing" with Odin the last he'd seen her. Had something happened? Had the Eidolon showed her something? Had it turned on her? Of course not, he chided himself. Stop with the worst case scenarios. Gulping down his rising panic, Noctis stepped out into the little lobby, catching her attention.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, the question coming easier now that they fully trusted each other.

She held him in a level stare as he approached, lips pursing in a moment of hesitation. Noctis's brow creased in response to the expression, unable to read into it. He waited for her to gather how she wanted to say what she wanted, coming up to lean patiently against the banister of the staircase. Just as she was about to speak, her gaze flickered with uncertainty and she turned to fix it on a less relevant object.

"You finally grew a green thumb," she joked, nodding to the vase of formerly dead roses to the inside of the front entrance.

A few days earlier, he'd personally gone out to the Marketways to purchase fresh flowers and had replaced the long since deceased blooms with vibrant new blossoms. He'd gotten some red ones because he knew Kat liked them and a few white ones for Stella's preference, whenever she would visit next. He was partial himself to some that were a pale shade of pink and didn't realize until he was glancing between the new bouquet and Lightning, that they were the same color as her hair. Laughing off the sudden rise in his heartbeat at the realization, Noctis went along with her change of subject.

"I owe it to you," he explained. "You brought new life into this lonely place so, I figured the decoration needed to match."

"Please," she snorted in amusement. "All I've brought you is new trouble."

"What's life without a little bit of trouble?"

She smiled at him for that, and a small seed of pride planted itself in his chest that he was able to conjure that smile from her. He didn't remain distracted by it for long though, sobering to ask her what was really on her mind.

"My revived interest in botany might be a surprise but, a few fresh flowers isn't enough to bother someone with the type of worries you have to deal with."

Lightning's smile quieted again and he almost regretted having to revert her attention back to whatever was troubling her. She cast her eyes to the floor beneath her toes, considering the pattern of the tile while she tried to re-summon the conviction to ask the question she needed to. Eventually, she breathed out a huff of frustration and knocked the back of her knuckles against the door to the outer walkway.

"The first night I came here, that door in your basement knocked me unconscious and I tend to hold a grudge against things that hit me in the head."

A surge of possessiveness came from behind the object in question, constricting in Noctis's chest. He quickly expelled the feeling, determined to think for himself on this one. The events of that night had been just as much a concern for him as it had been for her, and he'd gained just as few answers about it. If it refused to be forthcoming with him then, he had no choice but to go about getting an explanation by his own method.

"You want to know what's down there," he said, the intrusive presence stabbing into him at the mere suggestion he reveal it to her.

"I know it's not my place to know…"

"No, it is your place. At this point, you have every right to know."

A weighty pause followed the insistence in his voice and against all the warnings he'd been given since her arrival, he was going to tell her everything. All that the Caelums' kept secret and all that he'd been conditioned to never speak of, even if he was tortured into saying it, he was going to tell her - if not for her sake, then for his own. Too many years had passed of him remaining silent, and now that there was someone that wanted to hear _his _voice, and not the prince's, he would be heard.

"You know what this war's being fought over, right?" he started, moving to sit upon the lowest stair.

"That big crystal?" she replied, pushing herself off the wall to sit beside him. "Infinite power source type of thing?"

"Basically."

"What of it?"

"We're on top of it."

Noctis gestured below them, towards the churning network of halls sown deep beneath the floor of the building. He didn't know why he'd expected she would look more surprised than she did. She wasn't an idiot and had pieced together a lot of answers about his world without him having to tell her. From the books she'd been reading, she would know that Arcadia held the Eternal Crystal thus, the invasion into their territory. Knowing what she did about the true identity of the Caelums, it didn't take a genius from Academia to figure out that the Crystal was within the family's possession. His telling her only served to replace any lingering doubt with certainty. She nodded her understanding and he went on.

"Crystals in this world, all have their own personalities, I guess would be the word. They're not quite sentient – not like your eidolith – but, they each have their own will. Some are stronger than others and the strongest are able to influence the world outside of themselves. Usually, this is done through a human host."

"Doesn't sound too far off from how fal'Cie manipulate l'Cie with their Focus."

"I suppose it's somewhat like that, with the exception of any negative circumstances. Crystals don't issue a particular order and punish you for failing. Their most basic instinct is to protect themselves and if their will is strong enough, they'll choose a human host to do the protecting for them. Many years ago, before resources started dwindling and the war began, it was rare for human beings to ever be endowed with the powers of Crystals. Now that the world's situation is in such a dire state, even the weakest of the remaining Crystals have adapted to reaching out for hosts. That's how the Guardians came to be."

"You told me about them," Lightning recalled. "The military elite, right?"

"Right. They all have the Crystals' abilities at their disposal, which makes them invaluable to their country's forces."

He turned to her and paused, noticing the thoughtful tone to her features as she connected his information to prior knowledge. As if thinking aloud as opposed to consciously asking, she said, "So, what does that make you?"

What, indeed, he thought to himself, eyes turning down as hers rose back up. There were days – hard and dark days – when he was left to the dangers of his own mind, where he didn't quite know himself what exactly he was but, that wasn't what she was asking, really. Leaning back a little against the stairs, Noctis called up the passages of his own history and faithfully recited them to her.

"For particularly powerful Crystals, entire societies are built around them. People are drawn to their powers even if it doesn't voluntarily expend it. It's our belief that Crystals bring success and fortune to those that worship it and if anyone's proof that the belief is true, it'd be my family. The Caelums share a long and devoted heritage with our Crystal. We and the Fleurets were the first ever aristocracies to be based around a Crystal."

"That's Stella's family?"

"Correct. The princess and I share the same abilities with our respective Crystals. Ever since this idea of raising empires around Crystals came to be, a member of each generation of that family is chosen for guardianship by their Crystal. In return for bringing us power, the Crystal asks that we trade our services as protectors in payment."

"A warrior prince," Lightning mused, sparing a small laugh. "You've really got it all, don't you?"

"I suppose, although being able to fight for yourself doesn't stop your superiors from issuing you a security detail."

"You're talking about Ignis?"

Noctis quieted in response to the onslaught of emotions that curdled inside him, and Lightning subdued her line of questioning. For the longest time, all Noctis had done was insist that he needn't be looked after like a child, and now that he was free, the first thing he wanted was for his friend to return.

"I just assumed," Lightning went on, careful in her observations, "that's what he is. Although, to be honest, I had my doubts that such a wiry-looking guy could qualify for protection duty. I guess he must be tougher than he looks."

"Not really," Nocits said, chuckling at his friend's expense. "He might be good with his magic but, you'd never catch him doing a ground tackle. That's Gladiolus's job."

"Are all of your friends your employees?" she asked, shocked that the amiable giant was also on the Caelums' payroll.

"Everyone but Prompto started out that way, yeah."

The fact that Prompto _wasn't_ a candidate for security detail didn't seem to surprise her as much as the rest. Her reaction was mixed and difficult to read, and he didn't understand why the trivialities of his life were such a concern to her. She had bigger problems, and he decided now was a good time to settle one of them.

"Alright, you ready?"

He pulled himself to his feet, stepping down to the floor and putting the talk about his associates aside. His personal issues paled in comparison to the grand scale of her trials, and he was more than willing to shift the spotlight off of himself. She hesitated, brow creasing as she looked at him.

"Ready for what?"

"To go meet my other half," he joked.

"You know I don't really have to," she quickly objected. "I mean, it's not like it'll turn out to be the key to this whole thing. It's not important."

"We don't know that and besides, even if it isn't, you still want payback for it knocking you out right?"

She held him in a considering stare, penetrating and cool as she weighed her right to intrude upon such a precious aspect of his life. Determined that she not hold back her curiosity for his sake, Noctis nodded to the door again, and gestured to help her back to her feet.

"Okay, fine," she finally muttered in defeat, latching onto the hand offered her and pulling herself upright. "Let's go see how tough your powers really are."

Noctis led her out along the domed walkway, the glass enclosure bringing up unpleasant memories for both of them. Noctis sent a suspicious glance outside as they walked, fixing upon the spine of the manor in the distance and wondering if he'd catch Regis's silhouette in one of the windows. If he was there, Noctis couldn't see him but, he hastened Lightning along the way regardless.

The one difference that Lightning noticed right away when he opened the door to the stairs was that they were visible, illuminated by small bulbs of soft blue lights lined against the floor. As they descended, she found herself becoming more curious about the lights, unsure if they were running on electricity or were activated in response to the presence of the Crystal's host. She was inclined to believe the latter, as there was something distinctly organic about their gentle glow and she was certain that they brightened just a little bit as the prince passed.

Unlike her blind struggle during that initial night, Noctis smoothly guided her around each sharp corner of the intersecting halls, his destination set through each step.

"Ever get lost down here?" she asked, smirking into the gloom.

"Once or twice."

"That's all?"

He laughed that laugh which she felt an unusual attachment to and it made the darkness of the labyrinth seem that much lighter. After a few more turns, they arrived at the entrance to the long hallway down to the Crystal's door, and the slew of memories swarmed in Lightning's head as she faced it again. The force that had crippled her thrummed out from beneath the door, pulsing in her ears. She was wary of getting too close to it again, and there was the matter of the images she'd been shown the first time which also gave her pause. She'd yet to investigate those in light of everything else.

"It won't hurt you like before," Noctis said when he noticed her trepidation. "I trust you now so, it should trust you too."

Trust, eh? They'd certainly come a long way since the bloody night of her arrival. Weeks ago, she'd been running from danger and into danger along this very same corridor. Today, she was walking alongside the same person she'd considered a threat, now as her most valuable ally. A lot changed in such a short time, and that time had felt so much longer given everything that had transpired. Perhaps he was right and the same change would come over this mysterious, crystalline entity.

"Alright," she breathed, eyes fixed in challenge upon the door. "Let's go say hello."

Noctis stayed a step in front of her as they made their way down the hall, ready to serve as her shield in the event he'd misjudged the amiability of his Crystal. Similar to the first time, the steady beat that radiated through the light around the doors edges grew more intense as they neared. Lightning looked to Noctis again, analyzing his features for any sign that he was affected by the sensation. If he was even aware of it to begin with, he had adapted to the tune so to be completely unaffected. Coming to stand before the door, the intensity of the power was at its peak and Lightning was given the impression that while Noctis was more than happy to show her the Crystal, the Crystal still did not want to be seen.

He shared her thoughts, half-raising a hand to request she stay back while he tried reasoning with it. Where Lightning heard a mild pulsing, it was a rampant drumming in his head. It was furious with him for breaking his oath to protect it by bringing what it adamantly considered to be a threat to its doorstep. Noctis couldn't comprehend why it still considered Lightning as such and why it wouldn't respond to his assuredness in her. Although the Guardian was chosen by the Crystal, he wasn't controlled by it. It was the other way around: he was in control of the Crystal while it fed off of his own strength in exchange for the powers it provided, like Lightning and Odin. For the half of his life in which he'd been a Guardian, he'd gained total control through his practicing so, to have it suddenly rebelling against him was distressing.

Drawing upon the power of his own will – to which the Crystal had been first attracted – Noctis rested a hand against the door, silently matching the volume of the Crystal's voice with his own, refusing to let it reject who he'd finally accepted as a friend. With a low rumble, the black granite door thrummed beneath his fingertips in a final act of opposition before groaning inward and flooding the hallway in ethereal light. Noctis offered bitter thanks to the benefactor of his abilities then, checked on Lightning again to make sure she wasn't suffering from any barrage of petulant paranoia.

She was still standing and seemed mildly less disconcerted by the pulse. Assuming this to be a sign of grudging cooperation from the Crystal, Noctis led her past the threshold and into the Crystal's stronghold. It was a spacious cavern, with smoothed out walls and ceiling, held aloft by sets of rune-carved columns. The patterns drawn across them were gilded with silver, shimmering from the reflective surface of the water from which they rose. The floor of the room was coated as if in glass by the still, black depths. If not for the subtle rippling shown upon the columns' faces, Lightning would never have known it to be anything but a solid floor.

She couldn't tell how deep it was and she couldn't tell how to cross it in order to reach the center of the room, where the source of the light's energy emanated. Standing on a pedestal, slightly elevated from the water, was the thickest and most ornate of the columns, flowing up to the ceiling like a river of marble. Where it met the ceiling, the marble split into arches that curved out to connect the surrounding columns. The center of the column was hollowed out, and within was suspended a bright orb of light. Although shapeless at the distance she stood from it, she could only assume that it was the elusive Crystal she'd been reading so much about.

She turned to Noctis for further guidance, interested to see how he intended to reach the thing without any discernible pathway to take him there. Looking like he was holding onto the punch line of the greatest joke she'd ever hear, Noctis stepped forward, onto the gloomy surface of the water. Onto. He stepped _on_to the water…but, no that couldn't be right. It was just shallow then, wasn't it? No, the soles of his shoes were hardly even submerged so, he was _on top_ of the water…

A volley of laughter jerked her out of her awe and she realized the punchline to that joke she'd been thinking of must have been the expression of her face. Noctis stood out there, _on_ the water, barely able to keep himself from standing upright with how hard he was laughing, and Lightning felt her face go aflame.

"Stop laughing!" she shouted at him. "You are _walking on water_!"

She threw an indignant hand out into the open air between them, not sure what exactly she was gesturing at. When he could finally get himself to stop laughing, he shook his head with a snort of amusement.

"You may be in the future but, people aren't _that_ advanced."

She wasn't convinced. She believed what she could see and she was seeing him standing on water like it was tile. Her incredulous stare slowly turned into a glare that demanded he start explaining what in Etro's name he was doing. Getting a last, leftover giggle out of his system, Noctis extended a hand.

"It's sort of an optical illusion. There's a bridge here but, you can't see it unless you know it's there. Step forward and you'll see. Be careful though, it's rather narrow."

She stayed skeptical, unsure if this was still part of the joke and if she stepped forward she'd only plummet into deep water. Any traces of trickery were wiped from his face and he titled his palm nearer to her.

"Trust me?"

Well, yeah, she thought to herself. We've established that. Letting out a breath, she held his hand in a vice-grip – because if she was going down, he was going down with her – and placed a careful step out onto the glassy surface. Sure as he'd said, the area was solid, only covered by a paper-thin sheet of water to make it blend with the dark depths. Even knowing that there was a structure beneath her, the bridge remained invisible to sight. She had no idea how the illusion was accomplished and she didn't care enough to dwell on it. So long as she wasn't going to drown and he wasn't part god along with his "warrior prince" status, she was fine with just accepting that there was an invisible bridge beneath her.

"Step where I step and you'll be fine," Noctis told her, turning towards the column to lead her across.

The bridge must have only been wide enough for one person since he angled himself to lead her behind him and not alongside him. They went across the bridge like that: one after the other, linked safely together by hand. Lightning heeded his advice religiously, following him step for step and not taking her eyes off of where he placed his feet until they were at the base of the pillar's pedestal. Bathed in the silvery-blue aura, she could have mistaken the entirety of the structure as the Crystal itself. However, upon closer proximity as Noctis let her step up to inspect the glowing object, floating in the mouth of the pillar, she found the Crystal to be much different than what she'd expected.

"For something called the 'Eternal Crystal,' I thought it'd be a bit bigger."

When her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the light, she could finally distinguish the outline of the Crystal itself. It was only a little bit larger than her fist and was cut roughly in a teardrop shape that grimly reminded her of Serah's crystal tear. The surface was smooth and shone with an effervescent gleam under its own light. Oddly though, the face of the Crystal didn't bear a reflection. While the surface was clear and she could see through it, it didn't act as a mirror which she thought was strange. As she tilted her head from side to side to try and find a picture, Noctis – mind reader that she was convinced he was – explained.

"This Crystal doesn't show the tangible world," he said, stepping up next to her. "Others can but, this one's always been a special case. Instead, it reflects the soul of its Guardian, and even then, only to people it chooses and only through telepathically sent images."

Lightning's posture became rigid for a moment, something in what he said troubling her memory. "Telepathically sent images," he said? Sounded suspiciously like the migraine inducing slideshow she'd fallen victim to, images of which included a boy, the voice of Etro, and a room she now recognized to be the one she currently stood in but, spattered with blood. What that meant in relation to the reflection of Noctis's soul, she was hesitant to ask. She wasn't even sure if the Crystal had voluntarily chosen to share those images with her.

Noctis, who always seemed to notice even the slightest change in her stance, had her fixed in a keen stare, caught in his own trap of not wanting to push her and being too curious not to try. Looking at the Crystal and realizing what a breach in conduct it was for him to have brought her down to see it, Lightning could find no other excuse to withhold any of the things she had yet to tell him.

"Thanks for showing me this," she said. "In return, I think it's about time I finally told you how exactly I got here."

There was a moment's pause where the expression of Noctis's face was surprisingly indifferent until she realized that her words had yet to fully settle in his ears. When they did, the light of the Crystal swelled with the excitement of his smile and the rapturous, "Really?" that followed. Suddenly, remembering that he was a prince, dammit, and had more self-control than that, he quickly grabbed his eagerness by the throat and strangled it back down beneath his regal veneer.

"I mean," he said, coughing to cover up his scholarly fascination, "you don't have to tell me if you really don't want to…"

"Says the guy who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer when I said I didn't have to come down here?"

Unable to deny the accusation, Noctis cast his embarrassed gaze downward, laughing nervously.

"You've got me there."

"You don't have to worry," she added, pacing back to the front of the pedestal. "It's not like I've been sworn to secrecy and I'll be smote where I stand for telling. Besides, not talking about it has gotten me less than nowhere so, might as well try getting it out there. We can talk about it over that lunch you still owe me."

Standing with her back to him, Lightning set free a playful smirk that he couldn't see, expecting her reminder to fluster him out of his reserve. It might have been petty of her but, she needed payback for how he freaked her out with his walking on water trick. Casting a glance over her shoulder when silence met her in answer, she found the stately prince dazed by the proposition and equally confused.

"Lunch I owe you?" he repeated, his mind unable to catch up with the present.

"Don't tell me you forgot," she replied, putting on a deadpan look to further his already frantic nerves.

He kept parroting the words over again in his head, lips moving slightly as he tried to contain them within his own thoughts. Carefully keeping her face stern, Lightning waited for him to remember, and when he finally did, she let her mask break with a smile.

"Lunch I owe…Oh! Right, yeah, you mean from last week! That lunch that I…yeah, um, right. That one."

Recovering himself with tremendous difficulty, Noctis cleared his throat while she maintained her entertained smiling at him. Having finally collected his senses and calming the sputtering energy that had emitted from the Crystal in response to his panic, he said, "Let's make it dinner. Tonight."

"Sounds good to me," Lightning agreed then, turned to toe her boot into the water until she found the bridge again. "Hope you can wait that long though. I know you've wanted to hear this story for a long time."

"It'll be worth it," he said, moving to follow her.

And that's when he made an even bigger fool of himself by taking a wrong step and stumbling down into the water.

* * *

><p>It took Lightning a good five minutes before she could stop laughing after she dragged the drenched prince back up to solid ground. And even then, her body shuddered with chuckles as they made their way out of the Crystal's sanctum. No amount of proper breeding could help the man reclaim his dignity after such a blunder and he dripped with mortification as much as he did water. On the off chance she could find her voice again, Lightning tried assuring him that it wasn't, in fact, the most embarrassing thing he'd ever done in his entire life, to which he responded, "oh hell yeah it was."<p>

The simmering blush on his cheeks didn't help to cure Lightning's bouts of laughter and the sideways glares he sent her were about as threatening as a rained on cat. While there was still ample time left before the dinner that nearly drowned him, Lightning insisted that he dry off and get some rest. Maybe his coordination would return after a little nap. He sent her a withering look for the extra jab but, didn't object as they came back to the lobby.

"I guess I'll meet you back down here at six," he mumbled, ringing out the ends of his shirt.

"It's a date."

Neither of them had actually said the word the first time they'd tried to make this happen, as if it would somehow doom it from ever actually coming to pass. Fate, or whatever it was that had orchestrated her reunion with Odin, had been the culprit last time. While she couldn't predict what the nameless forces of the universe had in store for her, she didn't think that calling this dinner what it was, was going to jinx it. Even if it did, the touch of tenderness in his eyes in response was worth the risk.

He vanished upstairs, and she let herself wander into her most frequently occupied room: the study. As she paced along the shelves, looking for no title in particular, Lightning wondered if she was being ridiculous for stopping to have a dinner date when she should have been saving all of time and space…or whatever it was Etro expected of her. Fractured visions from various sources plagued Lightning's thoughts: the goddess's prophecy, the unwitting memory of the Crystal, and the broken pieces of Odin's past. Were any of them even connected to each other? Were they even relevant to her cause or did they only serve as red herrings to throw her off her path? She might have been inclined to believe that, if she were on a path to begin with.

Sometimes she felt like she'd never hit the ground from where she'd been falling through time. It had been more than a week since she'd woken up in that snowy alley, certain of nothing else but her goal to save Fang and Vanille from crystalstasis. After all that the fal'Cie had put them through, they deserved to live in the world they'd won as much as the rest of them did. Even that goal though, was becoming less concrete as time passed.

Leaning against the unlit fireplace, Lightning let her inner conflict escape through a sigh. With all that she'd learned about the laws of this world, she'd still learned nothing more about Etro's orders. "Find and destroy my demise…Only deceit stands in your way…" As far as she was concerned, the only deception going on was from Etro herself with her lack of elaboration. If only Lightning could comprehend the mind of a god then, maybe she wouldn't be having so much trouble.

A circle of warmth hummed from the pocket of her jacket and she withdrew Odin from within, settling the eidolith in her palm.

"You know, you're no help," she grumbled to him, earning an indignant sputter of light in response. "When are you going to quit the amnesiac card and remember what you wanted to tell me?"

The scarlet light lessened as her point sunk in, and her shoulders slumped against the fireplace in equal amounts of despair. Of course, she wasn't blaming Odin for not being able to remember the details behind the vision he'd tried to show her. In fact, she almost blamed herself, thinking his amnesia was a result of her own ignorance, and that it was she who was causing his block. In their silent language, he'd tried convincing her that it wasn't the case but, neither of them could truly be sure.

Idly running her fingers along the smoothed edges of the rose, Lightning let her thoughts wander to wherever they wanted and decided to see where that took her. She could always trust her own instincts if logic ever failed her. These thoughts took her closer in time than she expected, to her date with the dark prince. A date, she repeated to herself. Who would've thought? Oh, and if Serah could see me now…

Thoughts of Serah reminded her of the thousands of centuries between the present and the past that she intended to one day return to. Her life and her own future were there so, what was she accomplishing through this date? She liked Noctis, certainly, after all the work he'd put into earning her trust. She liked the way he respected her and liked that she could respect him in turn. She liked that he didn't push her and she liked that it didn't prevent them from having a conversation. She liked the sound of his laugh and the curve of his smile and when his face flushed red like the new roses by the door…

A spiteful burst of brightness came from Odin as her thoughts rambled on, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"You're stuck here with me," she told him. "So, you're going to have to get along with him, too."

The brightness dwindled down into an Eidolon's equivalent of a grumble and the light dulled with resignation. Still, she could see why Odin was concerned. She didn't know what she herself expected out of the date but, she knew what the general expectations of a date entailed. And by all practical accounts, those expectations might be impossible to achieve. Although she didn't know how long she was staying, she knew that it couldn't be forever. There couldn't be enough time to explore whatever it was people explored after a date.

Growing more disheartened as her thoughts continued, Lightning was blissfully distracted from them when the front doors groaned open. Hastily shoving Odin back into her pocket, Lightning crept to the library doors. Usually, Noctis's visitors knocked unless it was Prompto, who'd gotten ahead of Gladiolus before the older man could perform the more courteous gesture of warning them to their presence before barging in. If it were in fact that scenario, and Prompto's arrival was imminent, Lightning was resolved about staying hidden.

She never thought she'd be dismayed to not see Prompto stalk through the doors. She only disliked one man more than she disliked the bouncy blond, and beyond her own reason, she'd hoped their paths would never cross again. She knew better than that though, yet still, she wasn't prepared to see Ignis there. Her lack of preparation did her a tremendous disservice, since her surprise kept her from properly concealing herself, and his eyes locked with hers nearly an instant after he stepped into the lobby.

Distance hadn't changed the mechanical coldness of his stare or the painful straightness in which he carried himself. Not even her own bristling reaction to him had changed and she swore that while it didn't appear on his lips, there was a smirk of satisfaction in his eyes that he still had the same effect on her. Mouth turning down and eyes hardening for battle, Lightning marched out to meet him because while he might have been the most unpleasant person to be around, he wasn't the most intimidating.

"Well, speak of the devil," she said, acidly. "We were just talking about you."

"I hope by 'we' you don't mean you and the prince," he retorted, voice as stiff as tree-bark.

"Who else? You think I idle my time away, swapping petty gossip stories with the wait staff? I _am_ a wretched spy after all. Got to get my info straight from the source."

It gave Lightning a sadistic amount of pleasure to see his jaw tense in response to her taunts. If she wanted payback for how he treated her like something he'd scraped off his shoe, she wanted to get it by making him snap from beneath that immaculate façade.

"Noct is upstairs," she continued, purposely using the nickname he'd allowed her to rub her familiarity with the prince into Ignis's face. "If you want to kiss and make up over whatever you're fighting about, that's where you'll find him."

Lightning turned to retreat back into the library, wanting to limit this encounter as much as she could. He didn't yield to her though, instead catching her off guard and pulling her back into the fray with an unexpected move.

"I didn't come to see Prince Noctis."

She stopped where she stood, heartbeat coming to a steely slow pace in anticipation of a fight. He didn't have to specify. Merely stating that he wasn't there for one, meant he was only there for the other. Basic combat instinct nearly made her reach down for her gunblade but, she hadn't donned the weapon since almost shooting Noctis. Not forgetting the much more powerful weapon, hiding in her pocket and beating out a challenge, Lightning looked back at Ignis, perceiving his presence as an immediate threat.

The barely suppressed irritation in his sharp features seemed to be divided upon her and some other party that wasn't present. It didn't put her any less on edge but, made her suspicions shift enough to hold back from attacking. Through clenched teeth, he relayed yet another shock to her.

"Much as it _confounds_ me, His Majesty, Regis Lucis Caelum, the King of Arcadia, has requested an audience with you, at your earliest convenience."

She wished that the news didn't stun her to the point of nearly going slack-jawed. Clamping her teeth down to prevent such a dumb-struck expression, Lightning weighed the consequences behind this invitation… She could find none. The man had never met her, only seen her in brief passing. There was no pre-requisite for issuing such a meeting and there was no way she could participate without stimulating some misguided guilt that she might be betraying Noctis by seeing his father without his knowledge.

"You can tell him that I respectfully decline," she said, forcing ice into her voice to hide her confusion.

Ignis gave a long-suffering sigh, eyes rolling to the ceiling, a gesture that only further encouraged Lightning's fingers to curl into fists.

"You see, I was only told to tell you that you were 'requested' to prevent you from having the idea that you had no choice, which you don't. And when I said 'at your earliest convenience,' I meant immediately, and 'immediately' means right now. Did I really have to spell it out for you?"

"Listen, you ass…"

In two strides, Lightning was more than halfway close enough to smash his glasses into his face. Whether it was the wrath on her face that scared him into stopping her or his obligation to his superiors, she didn't know but, he quickly added to his statement, and the effect was immediate.

"His Majesty is concerned about his son and he desires to discuss those concerns with _you_."

Lightning was still suspicious and she still wanted to punch him in the face – and Odin wanted to do even worse things – but, with great restraint, she kept her fist dormant at her side.

"Why me?"

"Gods only know."

"What concerns?"

"That's what you'll have to talk to him about."

She shackled him in a bone-meltingly hot glare, and he shackled her right back with one of frosty regard. A chain formed between those shackles and she knew that they were stuck together on the receiving end of his orders.

"Fine," she spat out. "I'll just tell Noct where I'm going."

"That won't be necessary."

She hadn't moved anyway, and was merely testing how this game worked. If she figured it out with him then, maybe she could survive this confrontation with Regis.

"I suppose that means 'he doesn't have to know.'"

Ignis's smile was both sad and cruel in reply.

"Now you're starting to speak Royalty."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hrrrgh, I finally got it up! Oh my _God_ I just could _not_ motivate myself to write any faster, urgh, my slowness grosses me out!

Uhm...not much to say about this chapter, actually. I can't say much without risk of giving away what I have in store. Just tried to narrow down the remaining questions that Lightning has to deal with for her "mission" and I finally wanted to try exploring Noctis's abilities. Again, this was all speculation on my part; just a vague sketch based on the scraps of information we have to go on so far so, obviously it's not all going to be accurate but, that's basically how I'm guessing it's going to work in the game.

Experimented a little with perspective shifts in this chapter and not sure if it's a pass or fail, honestly. I usually wait for a scene split to change perspectives but, this situation like, _needed_ to go between the both of them. My excuse is that it's all a metaphor for how they're becoming of one mind lookithowBSmyexcusesareha! Also, just don't ask me why I pushed Noctis in the water. I saw the opportunity, I could either do it or I couldn't and I just, snapped and it was like you could see my invisible hand shove him in there. I contribute it to the diagnosis of his severe puppy love syndrome.

Other than that, look forward to the next chapter! Haven't given myself a deadline yet but, I want to try and have chapters out monthly so, let's shoot for the end of June! Huzzah! I'm actually really looking forward to this conversation Lightning's going to have with Regis. Since the beginning I've wanted to write this so, maybe it'll come out even faster! :D

As always, your support means the world to me and I thank you for sticking with me! Hope you enjoyed! :)


	12. Break This Crown

_XII ~ Break This Crown_

She didn't make Ignis's escort duty easy. When he informed her that he was to drive her uphill to the mansion, Lightning immediately protested that she was perfectly capable of walking herself there. Of course, he was persistent about following his orders to the dot, barring her way when she tried side-stepping the provided car and corralling her into the passenger side after five very stubborn minutes. She didn't skip the opportunity to argue that in those five minutes, she could already be at the King's doorstep but, Ignis was determined not to hear her.

Although the drive was brief, the tension between them made it feel much longer. Ignis kept his gaze raptly fixed on the road once he was behind the steering wheel, avoiding her questioning, sideways glances with practiced indifference. The man was an iceberg: immovable and only showing what he wanted you to see. He was the dealer of their deck of cards, always holding all the secrets underneath his hands and never acting upon them. He simply parceled out the necessary pieces to the players and looked on in neutral complacency as the competition commenced. He wasn't unlike a fal'Cie in that regard, Lightning thought.

He pulled up to the base of the massive building and Lightning's blood cooled for a moment to analyze her situation. Here she was, about to enter the Caelum Manor, a place she'd only seen from a distance and in passing. Against the gray-white gloom of the overcast sky the mansion was a goliath shadow of skewering spires and knife-sharp edges. Knowing she was about to enter it made the silhouette that much more intimidating from the first, blustering night they'd crawled past it. Odin's stoic pulse in her pocket offered much needed encouragement, although she wasn't certain why she needed it so badly.

King or king_pin_; prince or soldier; false gods or death goddess – titles made to permit a level of power didn't instill any amount of fearful subservience in her. She didn't acknowledge authority through name but through action. Although she wasn't afraid of Regis Caelum, that didn't explain away the tumor of anxiety festering in the pit of her stomach. Ignis exited the vehicle, a cue for her to do the same and follow suit. Squaring her shoulders like they bore plates of armor upon them and flexing her fingers as if wielding her gunblade, Lightning stepped out and up to the entrance, ready to face this new challenge whether her stomach agreed with her or not.

Ignis continued to lead her, infuriatingly quiet and collected, giving nothing away as to the true intentions behind her summons. Passing through the ornate doors of the mansion, Lightning was immediately attentive in her observations towards how different the place was compared to Noctis's sanctuary. If she'd thought the Prince's humbler abode had been the peak of opulence, then Lightning was certain she didn't know what opulence was. Caelum Manor was far from just a big house. It was a _palace_ and the interior gave even more definition to that fact than the exterior.

They first stepped into a long, wide hall with a high, vaulted ceiling, illuminated by a row of huge, twinkling chandeliers. So far were they above Lightning's head that their glittering brilliance seemed as distant as starlight. The walls swirled with dark marble and rows of slick, onyx doors opened to spacious rooms on either side of the hall. Decorating the spacing between the doors were large, detailed portraits of whom Lightning assumed were great Caelum ancestors – or all the previous successors of the Guardian role. All were dark and severe looking people, men and women alike, with haunted eyes that pierced through passing guests just as sharply as if they were real.

Two pairs of tailored guards stood as sentinels at either end of the hall, just as straight-faced and impeccably still as Ignis. The pair by the doors acknowledged their entrance with hardly a flicker of the eyes and a twitch of a nod towards the valet. Ignis took her down the entire length of the hall, past the tortured frowns of the Caelum ghosts and all the sprawling, elegant rooms. The second pair of guards stood on either side of an arched entryway to a staircase with charcoal steps, carved with decorative symbols, and a navy blue carpet with silver trim rolled down the middle.

Yes, it was a beautiful and rich house, just the same in style as Noctis's. Yet, it lacked one thing from the smaller building down the hill, and that was sound. The languid crackle of flames in the study's fireplace, the distinct swell of music in the kitchen, and the muted thump of footsteps all around gave the place a heartbeat; a breath; gave it the rhythm of a true home. Ascending the stairs behind Ignis and hearing the hollow echo of his own footfalls slithering back to her made her feel like she was walking through a skeleton. The air was dead and crisp like the world outside. There was no warmth to be had in the clinically neat spaces and there was a soullessness from the walls that was mimicked in the hard stillness of the guards' eyes. It didn't help to ease her uncertain anxiety.

The stairway stopped to start another hall, this one with a lower ceiling but, no less long and no less covered in doors and antique portraits. Two sets of guards stood at either end again and the doors were mostly shut this time. Ignis strode down the hall, heading towards the further-most guards that stood at either side of a tall, closed doorway. Before they made it all the way, Ignis paused at the last door on the left of the hallway and made a sharp gesture for her to stay there while he continued on to the guards. Gritting her teeth and swallowing her pride like foul-tasting cough medicine, Lightning had no choice but to obey.

The men at the end door stood at attention as Ignis approached. He murmured strict and clear orders to them that she could not hear but, judging by the glances sent her way, she figured they were along the lines of "keep an eye on her." The two guards confirmed their understanding of the orders with identical, resolute nods and Ignis returned to her, looking like he was about to spout commands at her as well.

"I know the drill," she said, pre-empting him. "Don't touch the King, don't breathe on the King, don't look at the King unless it's with devout reverence…"

"That goes without saying," Ignis said, surprisingly unfazed by her mockery. "I expect you'll regard your host with the utmost respect. What I have to say to you has nothing to do with the King."

Lightning's brow rose, bemused by this admittance. She had been starting to think that the man didn't piss without running it by the King. Curious about the concentration in his expression – as if his implacable mask was just on the verge of breaking – Lightning folded her arms and listened. He spoke slowly and with a tight clasp of control over his voice that made every syllable seem shorter. It was like talking over a bleeding bullet-wound.

"I don't know if your intentions towards Noctis are malicious or not – or whether you even have any to begin with – but, whatever it is you're doing with him, just know that, if he ends up hurt because of you, Lord Regis won't be the most formidable enemy you make from it."

The glare he fixed her with was so cold that it started to burn. She'd guessed early on that Ignis's desire to protect Noctis ran much deeper than as a mere security guard. More than friends – more like brothers, both in arms and out. There was a history there that she didn't think anyone, other than the two of them, could fully understand. Although little could compare to the unique bonds between two people, she could easily relate. Many a time had she given such a scathing glare to anyone she suspected might do Serah wrong. For that reason alone, she was able to acknowledge and respect the warning, holding his stare, ice to ice.

"Noted."

They regarded each other in challenging silence for a moment longer, the emptiness of the palace placing more emphasis on the severity of the conversation. Without looking up, Ignis rapped his knuckles against the door they were standing in front of. A low, temperate voice responded.

"Enter."

Ignis squeezed the crystal knob and guided the door inward, arm extended to shepherd Lightning within. Letting her arms fall to her sides and opening herself up to whatever came next, Lightning passed over the threshold. The King's office was smaller than she might have expected but, it was filled with just as many valuable furnishings to make up for the size. Full bookcases leaned against the walls, wood stained dark and book spines kept neatly arranged. There was a massive globe in one corner – seas made of ivory and land molded through bronze. It spun on its axis without a single touch from outside. A long tapestry hung in another corner, woven with dark blues and silvers, depicting the names of all in the Caelum family tree – a lengthy and detailed lineage with space left for future generations.

The office was dimly lit by frosted sconces between the bookshelves and a matching lamp at the corner of a large, mahogany desk in the center of the room. Tossed with paper files and leather binders, it hardly reflected Lightning's pre-conceived idea of the rigidly organized man behind the desk. Regis Caelum stood with his back to them, looking out past the curtains of a tall window, the only one in the room. Lightning could barely glimpse the distant shadow of the house downhill between where Regis's hand lifted the curtain. The dark fabric slipped back into place as the King turned to greet her.

"Thank you for coming."

"Not like I had much of a choice," Lightning replied, slipping a cold glance towards Ignis.

Ignis didn't look to meet it, eyes fixed on the King although, not upon his face. Lightning noticed that his gaze remained strictly level with the other man's shoulders, even as he spoke.

"My Lord, are you quite certain that you don't require protection?"

"Yes, quite sure. That will be all, Ignis."

Ignis hesitated, eyes switching uncertainly between her and the King. Lightning blinked in mock shock. Was he refusing the dismissal? Was that even _allowed_? Regis smiled at him – a tired, phantom of a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"We're just having a friendly conversation. There's nothing to protect against."

Ignis remained wary but, under the risk of making his venerable leader repeat himself, he was forced to obey and exit the room. Lightning wasn't oblivious to the hot tongs of warning against her back as he closed the door, and she wouldn't be the least bit surprised if those guards he had spoken to would be re-positioned outside the office when she left that conference. For now, she was finally alone with Regis and he was gesturing for her to take a seat in the single, plush chair set up in front of his desk.

"I do hope Ignis wasn't in any way rough with you. I instructed him to be as tactful as possible when retrieving you."

"You picked the wrong man for that job," Lightning snorted, glancing suspiciously at the chair he was gesturing to. "Or maybe the right one since he seems to enjoy forcibly escorting people into unforeseen circumstances."

Regis smiled again, the same wisp of a smile that was leftover from a time before the war and only went on now as a place-holder for genuine amusement. He sat down behind his desk, body folding like a shuffling deck of cards, all the sharp corners falling into a specific place – elbows into the crook of the chair's arms, knees parallel to the floor, chin level above the top of the desk. The portrait of poise, just like his son. Already, Lightning was recalling the first night she'd met Noctis and how vulnerable she'd been to his enduring stare across the dining room table. Reminding herself of how she'd failed to remain unreadable then, Lightning started silently crafting the correct strategy for how to evade the unmoving Caelum stare once again.

"Ignis isn't your biggest fan," Regis said, eyes fixed on her and not the empty seat she refused to occupy. "Although, it's hard to tell with how much he never shuts up about you."

"How flattering."

Lightning assured herself that there wasn't much for Ignis to flap his gums about. He knew as much about what she was doing in Arcadia as she did but, it didn't comfort her to know she was being discussed by such dangerous people. Although she trusted Noctis, regardless of his heritage, she wasn't blind to the fact that he was _dangerous_. A man with that much power – economically, politically, magically – didn't keep it without risk, and Lightning knew his father was no different. She maintained her indifference towards his title yet, remained cautious, knowing that there were things he did to earn that title which were worth being wary about. Still uncertain as to the nature of why he wanted to see her, Lightning couldn't be sure whether he deemed her as a threat or not. If he did, she shifted her crossed arms in a way that would make summoning Odin swift and easy.

"Ignis has already stated, in no uncertain terms, that he thinks you have some cruel designs for my son."

"Is this the part where you banish me from the kingdom and forbid me from seeing your son like he's some damsel locked in a tower and I'm the roguish thief that wants to steal him away from a future of fortune, duty, and betrothal?"

"Might there be a reason I should?"

"Might there be a reason you think every woman that walks through his door is there to seduce him out of his every last cent?"

She didn't care if she sounded hostile. Although she didn't think much about other people's opinion of her, she was sick of hearing these assumptions. Did they really have to regard her like some street-hustler looking for an easy mark? Regis watched her a moment and if he was surprised or offended by her accusation, she'd never know. He dropped his gaze and it settled, as if on reflex, upon one of the picture-frames facing him on the desk. His forehead smoothed suddenly and his eyes softened as he reached out to draw the frame closer.

"You're right. I should know better than most men what the toll of unfair judgments can cost. My wife was subject to similar scrutiny."

Regis tilted the framed photo towards Lightning in offering and she was torn between wanting to accept it – thereby trusting the man's amiable manner as being genuine – and wanting to reject it as a show of respect towards Noctis's trust. This was about him after all, although Lightning wasn't sure what exactly it was about him. The system they'd built was working not because they weren't keeping secrets but, because they didn't need to know them. Whatever Regis wanted to discuss, Lightning already felt like her being in that mansion alone was an invasion of Noctis's privacy. She couldn't bring herself to look at the face of his potential mother, of whom he'd never spoken, for that reason alone. Her eyes lingered too long on the picture-frame though, giving away her curiosity nevertheless, and she found that she did desire to trust Regis – at least for the moment.

Whereas Noctis had read her through keen observation and subtle interrogatory techniques, Regis had a much more lethally accurate sense that had little to do with sight and all due to research. There was almost a pre-cognitive awareness to his voice when he lowered the photograph and stated exactly what she'd been thinking.

"He's never mentioned her."

There was resignation in his eyes, from the way they firmed at the edges and the way his irises toiled with a piece of Noctis's past that he'd hoped had already been shared with her. It seemed he didn't want to intrude on his son's reservations any more than she did. Yet, there was an insurmountable doubt to his expression that denied him the privilege of remaining impartial. She couldn't guess for sure what that doubt was but, he didn't keep her in suspense. He was surprisingly forthcoming with his concerns and Lightning was grateful. She'd about had enough of never-ending run-arounds.

"You'll have to forgive this old man his antiquated sense of paranoia. Contrary to Ignis's very persistent belief, I don't think you're some spy-sent assassin that means to murder my son. However, I also don't think you're the servant's cousin either."

"All sorts of word gets around here, huh?"

One brow curved up like a scythe, letting him know exactly how she felt towards the insinuation of being spied upon herself. He seemed to know an awful lot about her false life for a man she'd only seen once.

"It does," he replied, the smallest twitch of a smile raising one corner of his mouth. "Both Gladiolus and Prompto have to pass through here often and, I swear, you could hear that kid all the way from Paddra. You can imagine my surprise – after hearing the one-man jury of Ignis – when I heard how fondly those two spoke of Katrina's distant relative."

"And you don't buy it?"

"Noctis can compel his friends to accept anything he tells them. Their loyalty to him is unflinching and, though they might not always believe him, they trust him enough not to argue."

"You don't?"

Regis leaned back in his seat, one arm laid across the desk with the fingers still pressed against the photo-frame. If she had crossed a line, he did what few men ever could and didn't push her back over it. Whether that was because she'd struck some undeniable chord of truth or he was just calm enough not to react, she didn't know. Again, he answered that question for her himself.

"Noctis is his own man and, although he has a passionate heart, he is the master of his own emotions. He doesn't let his personal opinions threaten his logic and he's a great judge of character. I trust in him as much as any of his companions do but, the last time I left him to his own instincts, it was a situation he should have never gone into on his own. And it had been my responsibility to recognize that."

For a moment, he wasn't talking to Lightning. His eyes remained keen on the face in the photo, looking far away and back in time. Lightning couldn't fathom what relevance she had in this – whatever "this" was. A picture of a wife, a vision of blood in water, and a father with the saddest eyes she'd seen since the past… They were the clearest pieces to a puzzle she'd picked up yet but, was the picture they made part of the answer she sought? If it wasn't, would hearing this story Regis wanted told be worth breaching her limitations with Noctis?

Regis raised his gaze back to the present and gestured again to the empty chair left for her. "Please. I assure you that I don't wish to be alarming. I can tell you're hesitant to trust me and I respect that but, allow me the opportunity to explain. This will in no way impede upon your relationship with my son."

There he went again, talking as if she'd spoken her thoughts out loud. If she hadn't already experienced the clairvoyant Caelum perception, this could have been the point where she whipped out whatever weapon she had on her and made a run for it but, her instincts had evolved since waking up in Arcadia. She no longer saw soft-spoken generosity as dark ambition and, while she remembered Noctis being tense during Regis's visit, there was no malice to his father's expression that made her think he wanted to do badly by his son. Pursing her lips and glancing at the chair, it took a spiritual nudge from Odin to finally get her to sit down. Although her Eidolon remained vigilant towards any danger, her curiosity was mirrored in the petals of his crystal.

"Here's what I know," Regis started once she was settled, hands folding neatly on the desk. "And this is through mere observation alone. I know that you met Noctis during a dispatch a week or two ago, in the middle of that blizzard. I know that some volatile exchange occurred that forced you into a panic and eventually took you to the sanctuary's underground where Noctis had to drag you back upstairs, unconscious. I know that Noctis insisted you remain in his care, catering to any need he thought you might require. I know that something monumental happened before I arrived last week that shook Noctis badly, and I know that tonight, he voluntarily invited you back into the Crystal's sanctum where you both came out unscathed. That can only lead me to believe he's trusted the secret of the Caelums' powers to you.

'I know that Ignis doesn't trust you; I know that Gladiolus greatly enjoys your company; I know that Prompto is smitten but, is far, _far_ out of his league. I know that Noctis has made you his priority, which has never changed since he got shoved into war politics. All this I know and I don't mind, so long as my son is safe and, dare I say, _happy_. The stories I hear and the glances I can catch from this window have painted me a picture of the boy I used to know that couldn't stop smiling no matter how much you tried to make him frown. That I know and am grateful for. What I _don't_ know from these long weeks is _why_ he would tell you – a stranger – about the most sacred family secret that has half the world at war; _where_ you came from; or _who_ exactly you are."

Lightning rifled through the cards he was laying on the table, surprised that he was willing to lay them all out at once in the first place. It was a tactic she imagined a man in his position might consider to be a suicide play, keeping nothing to use as a trump card in the event the conversation turned south. It was reckless, really – or, at least, it would have been for anyone else. Regis was a man that knew what he was doing even if it made no sense to the counter party involved. He was just as unpredictable as his son and she was just as stubborn.

"Why do you think I'm going to tell you that when I've hardly even told Noctis?"

"I don't expect you to tell me, especially not if you haven't told Noctis."

"If I'm not here for you to interrogate me, then why am I here?"

"For me to warn you."

Lightning's eyes slanted with suspicion, this possibility behind him calling her there both on the highest and lowest tiers of her list. As she'd already defied the "stay away from my son" scenario, the high priority idea was diminished. This least likely one – proven to be so by the haunted cadence to the man's voice – was not what she'd been expecting. She knew before he said anything that this warning wasn't directed towards her for the sake of Noctis but, for the sake of herself. And that notion was more terrifying to Lightning than any threat she knew he was capable of.

"Noctis didn't tell you everything about the Crystal," Regis said, asking for confirmation just as much as stating his own answer.

"I guess not," she said anyway. "You seem to know something I don't."

"I should, given what this curse has cost my family."

The subtlest shift in the shadows of his eyes exposed an amount of hidden rage towards the object that had brought him such prestige. The way Noctis had spoken of the Crystals, Lightning couldn't imagine a Guardian bearing them any ill will. It was like l'Cie going against their Focus: it simply wasn't done. Lighting had to resist the urge to smile. Perhaps she and Regis had more in common than just his son.

"I assume you know of our world's gods, Miss Lightning?"

"Do you think I'm an alien from another world that might not know?"

"Certainly not," he said, smiling at her remark but, not laughing; once upon a time, he might have. "So you know of Bhunivelze, Lindzei… Etro?"

The pause he placed before the Goddess of Death was deliberate and did not go unnoticed. She didn't know how to interpret it but, whatever it was intended as, it wasn't in any way reverent. There was a detachment to the way he said her name and something else. It almost sounded like resentment. She was starting to like this man even more.

"Did Noctis tell you about how our Crystal reflects the will of its Guardian?" he continued.

She nodded, silent.

"No other Crystal is so tightly linked to its Guardian. All other Crystals reflect a different will; the same will across each: and that is Etro's will. The Crystals are products of Chaos, the energy of the Unseen Realm where Etro resides. They serve as her eyes into our world. The only Crystal she cannot see through nor bend to her own desires is the one Noctis now commands."

"Why is that?"

"No one is certain. In all the long years that we Caelums have served it, there are still many questions it has failed to answer. All we know is that it is one of the oldest and strongest Crystals, and perhaps its power stems from its independence from Etro. We can only theorize."

He paused, eyes back on the photo, and Lightning knew the exposition was over and that the plot was about to begin. And from the way he closed his eyes to prepare for that story to be told, she knew she would be hearing a tragedy.

"Noctis was chosen by the Crystal at an unusually young age. The Crystal 'took a liking' to him earlier than it had any Guardian before. At first, I couldn't have been prouder knowing we'd raised a son so smart and so strong that the Crystal thought he was worthy, regardless of his age. His mother didn't share the same sentiments as I, and I wish I had shared hers instead."

Where once there would have been an inflection of sorrow-filled emotion, there only remained a hollow silhouette of grief in his voice. Lightning felt her heart weighing heavier and heavier in her chest the more he spoke. She didn't know where this story was going and she was afraid to even warrant a guess. That a king's throne was built on so much regret showed how much she knew about royalty.

"She was terrified for him. The life a Guardian leads is hardly without its dangers and she wasn't ready to see him put through the seclusion of having to live in that mausoleum of a house. The closest proximity is necessary for a Guardian to hone his new powers to the Crystal. The first years after being chosen are just… the loneliest. He was hardly a teenager yet – hardly had the chance to make his own decisions or make his own friends. I don't even know if he was aware of just how much responsibility came with being a Guardian.

'The next Guardian goes to the Crystal alone. It's a solitary, solemn act between successor and benefactor. Never have two humans been in the room simultaneously, lest the transfer of power be confused. Noctis wasn't hesitant to go for the Bestowment – the act of the Crystal sharing its power with its chosen host. My wife, however, couldn't accept it and intruded upon the sanctum to implore the Crystal to reconsider. I only know what happened as a result from what Noctis told me.

'She begged the Crystal to wait and if it couldn't, to instead allow her the burden of its powers in her son's stead. I myself don't believe that Crystals bear enough sentience to acknowledge a human's voice but, there are a lot of things I believe that might not be true. If the Crystal was tempted into reconsidering, it didn't get the chance to act upon its own will. It was a long while before I fully believed what Noctis told me: that the voice of Etro then interceded.

'It became apparent that the Crystal wasn't the only being that had decided a claim upon my son. The goddess was even more determined to have Noctis become a Guardian than our own Crystal was. Etro saw my wife as a threat to whatever destiny she'd pre-ordained for Noctis, and the Crystal, loyal to the Caelums as we are loyal to it, sought to protect the mother of its new Guardian. The way Noctis described it suggested the Crystal was battling for control over itself from Etro's command. Whoever won out, the resultant expense of power was too great for my wife to withstand, she not being of the Caelum bloodline and without resistance to the Crystal's potency. Noctis was granted the Crystal's power – whether by its will or Etro's will, only he knows – and my wife was killed in the process.

'By the time I reached the sanctum, sensing the Crystal's conflict through my own bond with it, it was too late to hope she could be saved. My son had to watch his mother bleed out into the water because of my blind faith in all of our divines. And that blindness allowed Etro to soil our most sacred ritual with bloodshed."

The air in the room grew thick with silence. For the majority of his recollection, Regis had maintained a clinical exposure, as if he recited the tale to himself in the mirror every night before he fell asleep – if sleep ever came to him. It was only towards the end that his indifference began to waver, and Lightning knew that the resentment she'd assumed earlier towards Etro was rightly supposed. Faith had never been high on Lightning's list of priorities, not to the point where there was enough worth being shaken by the story. It only confirmed for her what she already knew: that any being which claimed itself as a deity couldn't be trusted. It also instilled a familiar, painful feeling within her towards Noctis, and that was empathy.

"I'm telling you this because there's something about you that implies you've stared into the face of Death and she stared back with a promise. It could be because of the remnants of the Crystal still within me that can sense it but, nevertheless, I know that wherever you came from, it is by Etro's design. And I'm warning you not to trust her."

Lightning's throat tightened and her fingers dug into her crossed arms in an effort to keep herself grounded. She was far beyond questioning how he could know so much and even further beyond caring. Here was a man – not a king; not a mobster – who'd had his whole world stolen by the greed of a god. How could she even fathom turning against him when fal'Cie, masquerading as gods, had stolen the same thing from her?

She finally saw herself in the dark-ringed eyes looking back at her. She saw her anger and despair of watching Serah turn to crystal because a fal'Cie demanded her life end to achieve her Focus. She saw her wrath against the pretend gods for daring to take the one thing she cherished in life; for using Serah to force Lightning into carrying out their deadly goals. She couldn't question Regis's warnings. She couldn't fear what it meant that he knew she was touched by the goddess. She couldn't even speak for that the magnitude of his revelation had rendered her speechless.

The same goddess who'd sent Lightning on her mission had murdered Noctis's mother. And she didn't believe in coincidences. Lightning found her voice as she was recounting the information, managing to ask one question.

"You said Noctis heard her voice. What did she say?"

Regis shook his head, eyes looking at her but, not seeing her. "Only Noctis knows. He's never told."

Lightning felt her pulse quicken with apprehension. Another unknowable prophecy? Surely it was no accident that Etro had dropped her at the feet of Noctis, another one of her chosen servants for some purpose even they themselves didn't know. Surely, there was some connection to her mission in Noctis's past. She couldn't put it all together there, sitting under the spectral stare of the Arcadian king and with Odin burning an urgent hole in her pocket. The Eidolon had been quiet as his master during the conference but, now that it was over, he was pushing as hard as he could to get her attention.

Lightning pulled herself to her feet and Regis remained still, eyes still looking ahead as if her face was still where it had just been a second ago. The distance in his gaze tugged at her just as hard as Odin was, and she felt obligated – by both her respect for what he'd lost and his trust towards warning her – to give him some small shred of reassurance.

"I don't know what the goddess has in store for any of us," she said. "But, I make my own fate. Always have, always will. Not even a god can convince me that my destiny isn't my own. I'll decide where this road's taking me, not Etro."

He raised his head to meet her gaze again, his reaction to her words hidden behind the complacent face of a tired king. It was a moment before he could find the words to respond, and they started with the smallest laugh.

"It's no wonder Noctis likes you. He's a rule-breaker too."

She smiled back, a tug at the corner of her lips. She liked Noctis for that too. Regis's face grew somber again and his hands squeezed together as if in prayer upon his desk.

"Whatever it is you have with Noctis, if it's real and you care about him… please, don't let her hurt him again."

If it was in her power to keep that promise, she vowed that she would. Back straightening and arms unfolding to her sides, Lightning offered the King the salute she'd given to her lieutenant a million times. He accepted it with a solemn nod and she took her leave.

* * *

><p>He'd had this dream before. Once. A very, <em>very<em> long time ago. He hadn't known it was prophetic then until the night which followed, where all his nightmares were re-enacted in reality.

It started in the water. He awoke submerged, murky black depths stretched to infinity on all sides; placid and still like the eyes of a corpse. It was silence, the kind of silence he always wished for where no one had anything to ask of him and no one expected anything from him. Yet, this silence and this darkness was death. He knew that somehow. Always, he was floating in the unmoving ocean of death. He didn't know if he wanted that kind of silence.

When he realized this, that was when the cold came. He would breathe and instead of a cloud of bubbles came a cloud of frost. Small puffs of white air would drift up and up and up, and his eyes would follow until he saw the surface of the water overhead. There was something up there, there was always something up there that showed him there was a surface to be reached. It was never something he wanted to reach.

He knew that this was a dream. He knew that she was dead. He couldn't stop the drills of panic that pumped his arms forward either way. It was the same as the first time: the body laid against the water's surface so that Noctis couldn't see her face. Ringlets of black hair sprayed against the clear ceiling of the death he swam through to get to her and as he started getting closer, the blood began. It was so bright against her dress and it was so thick, pooling against that surface. He didn't know until he touched it that it was ice.

That it wasn't ice…

That it was crystal.

The space between them was paper thin. His hands touched her hair but, couldn't feel it, could only feel the cold sting of the crystal casing between them. He beat at it, he kicked at it, he rammed his shoulder into it; he slammed and scratched and screamed until there wasn't an inch of him that wasn't bruised; until the water grew darker with the blood from his fingers as they tried to reach her. He couldn't see her anymore through all the blood that spread above him. He couldn't scream for her because the water swallowed his voice but, he couldn't stop trying. His soundless, frantic breaths fogged the crystal white and his hands couldn't fracture it.

He was drowning now, choking on his own unheard pleas for her to "get up," for her to "please be alright." The crystal was white with his breaths, so white that it became blinding. It filled his vision and stilled his fighting body, taking him out of the water, out of the crystal, and into someplace new. When the light died, he was on his feet. He was standing in a world where there was air to breathe and when he did, a sweet fragrance filled his lungs.

He looked up to find he was surrounded by roses. Thorny, blossoming bushes coiled all around him, climbing trellises, curling over stones, reaching for the pathway he stood upon. Reds and pinks and whites and more, all waxy petals and spiraled faces. Ahead of him on the path, she stood with her back to him – the woman that fell out of the sky; that tore like a hurricane through a forest of armored soldiers with only her quick steps and a loaded gunblade, leaving thunder in her wake as well as in her name.

Will as hard-set as steel, resolve as sharp as the edge of glass, and a secret kindness as soft as the sound of his mother's old lullabies. As she turned to face him, he felt that completeness which he desired even more than the silence begin to lift the burden of his own heart in his chest. He could feel himself start to smile, his admiration and his fondness for her erasing the deathly prison of the water he'd just drowned in. She turned to him and her face was not a smile to match his own. The tempest blue of her gaze was dark and hooded, glinting like the flash of a knife beneath an assassin's robe. Her hand was outstretched to him and upon her palm sat a small white rose. He glanced between the rose and her face, the severe cut of her cold stare suggesting that he should somehow recognize it.

He made to step towards her, made to speak and ask her what it was but, as he did, her fingers clasped into a fist around the rose and he felt it over his own heart. His breath came in a gasp and he stumbled, barely staying on his feet as he clutched his chest where a deep throbbing began to constrict within him. When he looked back at her, a rustling started in the roses around them and their blooms began to shrink into themselves. The colors shriveled to brown and the plump moistness of the petals dried to blackened flecks. Lightning's hold on the rose grew tighter, crushing the dying flower to black ash. He couldn't breathe and his chest felt like it was aflame, strangled heart trying desperately to stay beating.

He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air but, finding none. He reached for her with tears prickling at the corners of his failing vision, trying to beg her to stop but, only succeeding at a croaking, garbled noise. When he looked at her, her eyes were red like the ones he saw in the mirror. The face of Lightning began to die with the garden of roses, skin flaking, hair lengthening and darkening, uniform blanching until the woman who stood over him with the dust left of his heart in her hand was the smiling Goddess of Death.

She recited to him the same curse she'd bellowed through the Crystal's sanctum, words which tormented him out of sleep every night since: "You, the courier of my demise, shall find solace only in death and death shall be whom so holds your loving heart."

She whispered his name. Over and over again she whispered his name, everything around him dying until the venomous cadence of her voice turned to frantic calling and the pain in his chest was hands shaking him awake.

Noctis bolted upright, gasping hard against the feeling of dead weight in his chest. Sweat plastered his dry change of clothes to his body so he was just as soaked through as he was after tripping into the sanctum's moat. Spasms of shock crawled through his body, the muscles shivering as if against an icy wind. The dying rose garden of his dream curled away at the edges of his vision until he recognized the stagnant familiarity of his own room. Dark corners, dim lights, all his worldly belongings stuffed carelessly in chests and dressers that had no uniform placement in the room's design. He recognized Katrina hovering over him, the hand she'd shaken him awake with still halfway from him in case he still needed her aid.

He took half a glance at her stricken face before turning away, dragging his feet to the floor and resting his elbows on his knees. Pressing his head against his knuckles, Noctis reminded himself how to breathe and as his body calmed back down into the rhythmic pulse, he recalled how he came to be there, cycling through the day's events in an effort to exorcise the dream from the forefront of his mind.

He'd shown Lightning his Crystal. He'd made a fool of himself by falling in the water. She'd said she wanted to have a date. He'd gone upstairs as if stepping on clouds, elated by the idea. He'd dried himself off, changed into some old sweats, and flopped onto the sheets of his bed. He'd fallen asleep grinning stupidly at the ceiling and woke up screaming. Eyes on the floor between his feet, he watched Katrina's shadow shift away from him, going to shut the bedroom door. His eyes traced her steps until she eased the sticky door closed with a grinding sound between the wood, clicking into place. She turned back to him and he forced himself to look back at her.

She raised a hand to her eyes, pointing near the irises and mouthed the words, "Your eyes." His heart gave a panicked thump in his chest and his gaze found the sole mirror in the room, mounted to the inside of the door beside her. His distant reflection showed him his garnet stare and the small, glimmering shifts of light where the edges of the Crystal's shield revolved around him. He'd lost control. He hadn't lost control since the early days where he was first learning to use his abilities; when the agony of his mother's death was still fresh and yet un-mourned in the haste to make him a Guardian. This shouldn't have been happening. Why was this happening again? Why _now_?

"Hey, just breathe Noct, remember?"

Katrina breezed back over to him, as far as she could get before the barrier stopped her. How long had it been up, he wondered. Had he really felt her hands on his chest, or had it been the residual pounding of her fists against the shield that he'd felt? Why wouldn't it let her in? Why didn't it let _anyone_ in? Why did it force out all the people he wanted to protect within it? Why did he have these powers if he couldn't protect his friends? His family? Anyone he loved?

Katrina locked him in a keen stare, quiet as she needed to let him work through it. No one could stop him but himself and if he didn't stop, couldn't he hurt her? Any of them? The sheets against the edge of his bed were wrapped as tightly as tourniquets around his hands. Unless he wanted to lose them to lack of circulation, he had to rein himself in. He closed his eyes and breathed. He closed his eyes and saw the blood in the water, and commanded the Crystal to stop. He commanded it to stop hurting her, to stop listening to _her_, and to abide by his will and his will alone. Its powers were his birthright and he would have them in his control. The shimmering glow of the Crystal's light began to wane. The ripples in the water began to still. She got up and brushed the blood off her dress like it was dust.

He opened his eyes back to Katrina and she smiled encouragement, nodding that he was back to himself. He looked across the room to the mirror again anyway, hardly trusting himself to believe her. The air was empty and clear around him, and his eyes were blue again but, no less red around the edges from where deep lines of tears drained out.

Something soft was pressed to the side of his face and, at first, he flinched away as if his skin had been scraped raw and the lightest contact was like the sting of a needle. After a moment's hesitation where his body remembered that it was whole and uninjured, his shaking fingers fumbled around the proffered handkerchief and took it from Katrina's hand. Crying was for children. He thought he remembered saying that to her once and she'd never forgotten. Lest she injure his own stubborn sense of self-pride, she pretended not to notice the salty wetness on his cheeks but, at the same time didn't dismiss it. Her silence spared him ridicule but, her actions spared him the feeling of abandonment. He thought vaguely that he didn't pay her enough, and hastily cleared away the tracks of tears and whatever was sniffling out of his nose. He sniffed into the smell of the fresh linen and squeezed his eyes shut, willing whatever tears were left behind out to be dried away.

He chanced a glance back up at her, asking for silent confirmation that he'd left no trace behind. She smiled her best bedside smile and there marked the end of the crisis. She didn't ask and he didn't offer to explain, each of them keeping to their roles even in times of the greatest distress. Some days he was grateful for not being coerced into talking about it; other days he just wanted to scream the pain away at whoever would listen without labeling him a madman. He didn't know where today lay.

"Princess Fleuret is here," Katrina said, moving to his closet and thumbing through his somber wardrobe.

"We don't have a meeting scheduled for today," he replied, voice like gravel bruising the walls of his throat.

"She said she was here on a matter of 'grave urgency.' She needed to see you right away."

The relevance of Stella appearing unannounced didn't inspire as much haste in himself as it might have. He felt as if all the energy had been wrung out of him like a soggy dish rag. Imprints of pain still prickled in his chest as if the events within the walls of his mind had leaked out into reality. It made him wonder if he'd been right to assume that what he'd seen were mere manifestations of his own fears.

Once more, his chef-maid's dainty hands appeared in his view, this time bearing a neat collection of new clothes she'd selected from his closet. He stared at them a moment as if he didn't know what to do with them. It took Katrina gently opening his fingers and placing them around the edges for him to remember what they were for. He was drenched. His shirt was clamped to his chest like a second skin. He had to go meet Stella and he couldn't do it like this. He had to get up, had to make his legs move, had to put on his fake prince smile and pretend he and Stella hadn't been using each other for years.

He got up. He dragged himself to stand straight and enter the bedroom's adjoined bathroom, feet feeling like they were shackled to cinder-blocks. Peeling the sweaty clothes off and sponging away the lingering perspiration on his skin didn't make him feel any less heavy. Slipping into warm, dry clothes didn't offer him much comfort either. He splashed cold water on his face and in his eyes until any swollen redness was gone. He didn't linger on his reflection in the bathroom mirror but, the one by the bedroom door caught him again as he passed.

Katrina had lingered, like she always did, busying herself with tidying up the bed as a cover for her worrying over him. She was tiny in the mirror behind him, nearly eclipsed by the jagged sweep of his hair. It was a long while before she finally stopped flipping the same pillow over and over and over again, kneading it so much that it would probably melt like cotton candy the next time he laid his head against it. She stilled but, didn't turn to meet his gaze in the mirror. He wasn't really looking at her anyway. Although his eyes resembled that of a human being again, the darkness at their centers drowned him just as violently as the depths within the Crystal.

"What am I doing?"

He asked this of himself so many times with no one else near to hear. It was a question that encompassed nearly every sordid section of his life: What was he doing as a Guardian? What was he doing as the Prince of Arcadia? What was he doing as Regis Caelum's son? What was he doing as Lightning's ally?

"What's right."

"What's right or what I think is right?"

"Maybe they're the same thing."

A laugh came out of him but, it had no feeling. It was neither derisive nor amused, merely _there_. It was just something he knew he could put as a response; a place-holder for some emotion he didn't know how to express. He wasn't incorruptible. What was universally right and what he perceived as right, couldn't be the same thing. He was driven by desires too selfish to be considered as beneficial to the greater good, whatever that "good" might be. It was to end the war, wasn't it? And – by some miracle – end it peacefully. He was starting to lose sight of that. Talking to Stella would do well to remind him that there was a fight to be won outside of his own self-imposed trials.

He blinked at his reflection a few times more until the shuttering of his eyes showed him the appropriate face for greeting fellow members of royalty. The smile was brittle and strained, the eyelids shivering with the effort it took to keep them from drooping back down into despondency. There were corners of his face that were still swollen from discarded sobbing and his skin was paler than even he was accustomed to. Stella would see right through him but, he didn't have the conviction to care. He muttered an inaudible "thank you" to Katrina for providing her confidence and left the haunted sanctity of the bedroom to go face the Princess.

Noctis drew himself a straight line, pulled it taut into a tightrope, and set it above the chasm of his nightmares, putting one foot in front of the other with his eyes set on the platform at the other side. One thing at a time. Stella stood waiting to receive him, first in a long line of waiting hands upon that platform.

She was agitated when he joined her in the study – always his impromptu conference room. It was a quiet agitation, steady and contained, like the swirl of a storm stuffed within a glass jar. A glass jar wrapped in white silk, muting the motion to dim shadows churning underneath. If he hadn't known her since they were children, it would have been impossible for him to tell. Stella's feelings expressed themselves through the subtlest shifts in the tone of her posture, something she distracted people from noticing with her angelic smile. When she was happy, her weight went to stand at the balls of her feet, making her step bob as if on the gentle lap of sea-waves. When she was sad, her chin stayed slightly down-turned, her body knowing she'd rather be looking at her toes than into the eyes of a diplomat but, her decorum keeping them firmly in a held gaze. When she was angry her shoulders pulled back and lifted her ribcage into her chest, making her seem just a breadth taller than whomever might have offended her.

When she was stressed, a deathly stillness swept through her, holding her frame in statuesque place. She stood with her legs pressed straight together and her arms wrapped snug beneath her chest. Her back was to him as he entered and it was wrought with hard edges beneath the fabric of her cardigan. Her gaze was set on the dying sun hidden behind a film of clouds outside the study window. The weak, murky light made the shadowy gold of her hair that much darker. He cleared his throat to alert her to his presence, and the slight lift of her shoulders suggested to him that she'd already known he was there but, was just delaying the inevitability of turning to face him. She spun around with mechanical slowness, like a plastic figurine trapped on a music box axis. She didn't put up the smokescreen of her smile for him, her expression grave and solemn. However, once she met his gaze her brow wrinkled with immediate concern.

"What's wrong?"

"You first."

He was tired of smiling smiles that didn't mean anything but, he did it anyway because that was what princes did. They smiled empty smiles, laughed empty laughs, and spoke empty words. That's what princesses did, too, when they each weren't together. He dropped the smile and she dropped the question, and they both moved to sit down by the blackened bits of the cold fireplace. Another strain passed through Stella as she tried to sit, as if a weight was on her shoulders, trying to push her into a slump. Ever the master of her own body though, she alighted into her seat with a straight back, knees together and hands folded upon them. Noctis went ahead and slumped all he wanted, tumbling into his favorite chair with a heavy sigh.

"You look terrible," she said to him, the corners of her lips twitching into a wry smile.

"And you still look beautiful," he replied with an amused snort. "Even when you feel terrible."

The mirth in her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared and her gaze tilted downwards to the placement of her hands. The severe cut to her jaw resumed, hardening her delicate features and subduing the dainty illusion of her girlhood she latched onto in the hopes of escaping how the war had changed her. They'd both tried to keep the softness of childhood within them when they talked, to try and pretend they were still playing hide-and-seek through the palace gardens, and that the smoke in the sky was from a legendary dragon instead of the shells of bombs.

"I apologize for arriving without making previous arrangements but, as you can guess, this isn't a social call," she said, drawing her eyes up to meet his.

"Have they ever been?"

Her gaze didn't flinch against the accusation. They'd both been complicit in the exchange of Tenebrae's secrets and, although they'd each denied it to themselves, they always knew that there was more to Stella's visits than just maintaining their friendship. Noctis hadn't been forced to acknowledge it until his father reminded him that Stella spoke in double meanings just as much as Noctis did.

"You and me was the one thing I thought the war would never change," he said. "But, I suppose that was just the wish of an idiot boy."

"And of an idiot girl."

The sadness that weighed in her eyes weighed heavier on his heart. Although they sat only mere feet apart, oceans length of time churned between them. To have the same goals yet, to be so far on different sides was the cruelest irony of this war.

"It has to end, Noctis," she said, voice low and steely. "For our countries' freedom to be restored, for our families' bond to be reforged, and for our friendship to be reclaimed, Arcadia has to be victorious. You know this."

"I don't know if I do anymore."

"Please don't say that!" she implored him, voice rising. "Now is not the time to start giving up, Noctis. We both need to be the strongest we've ever had to be now."

His eyes slanted to bring Stella more into focus. The dark azure of her eyes was bright with what he now recognized to be panic, not the raw emotion of longing for times past. His understanding of the suddenness with which she'd arrived became more acute.

"Something's changed," he observed, inviting her to explain.

"Idola's growing impatient," she said. "I don't know how or when but, he's planning an attack."

Idola Eldercapt was the leader of Tenebrae's forces, allied with the Fleurets to utilize their resources in funding and strengthening his army. Noctis had never officially met him but, he'd borne witness to his madness from over Regis's shoulder many times. Where some men grew wiser and solemner in age, others grew greedier and crazier. Part of the reason the war had lasted so long was because Idola couldn't be reasoned with. He was power-mad and determined to possess all that the Caelums had built. The history of the man's hatred for them went back far and was stained with deep bitterness. Each side had contributed to the rivalry, just as each side now contributed to the war. No one could remember who started it.

"What's the target?" Noctis asked, pulling himself up in his chair.

"Regis and his stronghold, of course. He thinks somehow that he can infiltrate the manor. It could just be delusion or it could not. Either way, I wouldn't take his threats lightly. Be wary of whom you trust."

"If I mistrusted every person I met I'd be fighting this war by myself," he said, smiling crookedly to try and lighten the mood.

She smiled back only to placate him, not to be amused, and asked, "Where is your new house guest – although, I suppose I should really stop saying 'new.'"

"Have you been talking to Ignis?" Noctis asked, noticing the wary shift of her eyes as if she suspected Lightning to be eavesdropping around any corner.

"I take it he doesn't approve?"

"He never does."

Stella's laugh was short but, in agreement. Ignis's thorough dedication to his job was practically known throughout all of Pulse. Stella glanced back up at Noctis, this time her gaze skewing a little to better analyze him.

"You don't think she's dangerous?"

"Of course I do. But, I think you're just as dangerous, and that doesn't stop me from keeping my doors open to you, does it?"

Stella surveyed him a moment longer, hearing every word and every intonation behind them. She heard his fondness, his respect, and his trust for both women in how he spoke. After the briefest of calculations, she smiled a non-stressed smile, folded one leg over the other, and let her shoulders sink back into the chair.

"As dangerous as me, eh?"

"I think you may find yourself an even match against her."

"Since the goddess knows you're no match for me."

Noctis chuckled, unable to deny it. She'd always excelled beyond him in swordsmanship and he owed most of his own skills to her tutelage when they had the opportunity to practice. Those opportunities were few and far between, just as the opportunities for gentle teasing were, as evidenced by how quickly their words died back into seriousness.

"What are you going to do about Idola's threats?" Stella asked, lips collapsed back into a stoic line.

"Warn my father. Have Ignis increase security. Short of retaliating by hitting him before he can hit us, there's not much I can do."

"And you still wouldn't do that? Retaliate by killing him first?"

"You know I don't think that adding another grave to the ones we've already dug will make this feud end any sooner. Even if that grave is Idola's."

"You're offering him more than he deserves. You know that, don't you?"

Noctis nodded, hands folded between his knees and eyes on his interlaced thumbs. War had no patience for pacifism, yet he thought non-violence was the only way to break the endless cycle of bloodshed. Shooting at each other from above barbed wire fences had yet to yield any success.

"Keep trusting your instincts Noctis," Stella told him. "They have yet to lead you astray."

As she said so, Katrina – in an uncommon exercise of "breaking protocol" – scurried into the study, worry lines prominent on her face despite her best efforts to hide them in front of company.

"Pardon the intrusion," she said, hastily bowing in apology.

"It's never an intrusion," Stella quickly replied. "Please, come in."

Katrina's grateful smile was uneven in response and she crossed over to the arm of Noctis's chair with more immediacy than might have been necessary. Crouching down to his ear, she quickly whispered, "I don't know if this is cause for alarm but, Lightning's _gone_."

* * *

><p>She'd made a terrible mistake. If she'd thought the layout of Caelum Manor was so straightforward so as she couldn't possibly get lost, then she'd made a colossal error in judgment. She was too content with her freedom to wander unmonitored to turn back and ask for an escort out though. As she'd suspected, that pair of guards Ignis had whispered to had materialized outside of Regis's office before she'd left. It took a great amount of careful coercion from the King himself to convince them that she could be trusted to see herself out. She would have walked out just fine too, if she hadn't swerved to avoid Ignis as she was going downstairs.<p>

He was on his way back up – no doubt to pound at the door and make sure she hadn't murdered Regis Caelum. She was too sick of his incessant interrogating and too exhausted by all that Regis had told her to feel confident about baiting him. So, she hurried into a side passage along the main staircase before he lifted his gaze to see her and continued that way. She would have been better off suffering his borderline possessive paranoia. Enduring his rants was starting to sound much more appealing than making a fool of herself, sulking through the unfamiliar halls like the tourists she used to give directions to on the boardwalk.

While she tried to regain her bearings and find a way out, Odin continued to persistently vie for her attention. Since Regis had finished relating his tale, the Eidolon had writhed restlessly within the confines of his crystal. Lightning had never felt him in such a state of agitation and the fervency of his pulse against her chest grew more alarming the longer she tried to ignore him. She couldn't summon him here, she told him. He had to wait until she got them out of there. He wasn't having it thought, his aura pressing too hot against her skin for her to hold out against him much longer. Cursing under her breath at his stubbornness, Lightning ground to a halt in a dimly-lit and empty hall, a high ceiling suspended overhead by lines of pillars set in parallel rows down the length. She did a quick sweep of the cavernous space before fishing Odin out of her pocket.

She went on hesitating to release him in Caelum Manor of all places – she doubted Regis's confidence in her stretched so far as to be comfortable with her conjuring a legendary, spiritual entity in his dining room – or wherever she was. With Odin's aura pounding to blinding proportions against his crystal casing, he left her little to no choice in the matter of letting him out. Growling in annoyance, Lightning pelted the eidolith into the nearest wall, being without her gunblade to break the seal. The crystal shattered and Odin unfurled from his resting place, keeping the flower and lights show to a minimum. At least he had some tact.

"What _is_ it?" she hissed through her teeth at him, eyes darting to every dark corner of the hall. "This couldn't wait?"

Evidently not since Odin folded down to her level, preparing to "speak" to her. The Eidolon was just about back to his old self, armor gleaming, joints no longer groaning with rust as he moved. The edges to his blade were no longer dull, the effects of his magic were nearly restored back to full strength, and his transformations had been growing more effortless through their practice in Noctis's back courtyard. The only thing that had yet to improve was his memory and as he raised his finger to touch Lightning's forehead in order to share thoughts, it was made clear to her why this matter couldn't wait. Somehow, Odin was remembering the Eidolon Wars.

It started out in a clutter of confused flashes, then gradually evened out to form a coherent picture. It first depicted the day where the l'Cie saved Cocoon from plummeting into Gran Pulse and they were spared from crystalstasis, losing their brands in the process. She watched herself awaken from the slumber through Odin's eyes, which were watching from far above Gran Pulse. The Eidolons had been separated from their masters through the removal of their brands and were in the midst of ascending to that mysterious plane within the Unseen Realm which they hailed from.

Odin blinked and when his eyes next opened he was in Valhalla. Lightning didn't recognize it herself but, her mind was filled with Odin's, and the things he knew and was familiar with became one with her own thoughts. She knew the names of things she shouldn't have, knew the nature of Chaos and the complexities of time, how time didn't pass through Valhalla. She knew that Etro's throne sat at the peak of this realm and that the souls of the dead were ferried to the shores of her palace. She knew that Valhalla was where the Eidolons were forged from the energy of those souls.

Odin's memory went on to pass through centuries of time that couldn't be measured in the timeless city. It went on to show her the changing nature of Chaos, how the result of Cocoon failing to fall had disrupted the flow of fate. L'Cie became a dead breed in the new world and the Eidolons were left without a purpose. Abandoned to Valhalla and the churning conflict beginning within the Chaos, the intentions of the Eidolons began to warp. Unable to deliver judgment or aid to l'Cie anymore, they began directing their wrath upon each other.

In-fighting ensued, Eidolons pitting themselves against Eidolons to try and somehow reaffirm the purpose to their own existence. The war had started in Valhalla but, ended on Gran Pulse. The force of the Eidolons' battling threatened the stability of Etro's Gate, the portal between the realms of the living and the dead – it kept the Chaos from filtering into the world and distorting human time. In a fury, Etro banished the Eidolons to the face of Gran Pulse and onto New Bodhum, where the fighting resumed without regard for the people that lived there. It was the most careless gesture Lightning thought a god could make, and she wasn't sure if that was her mind talking or Odin's. Either way, they were in agreement that the goddess wasn't as benevolent as most were lead to believe.

The Eidolon Wars lasted for what Odin felt was an eternity. Time in the Living World passed in such abundance, and it had seemed like the changes between day and night never ceased. After an amount of time he couldn't collect, the screams of the people died and the clashing of divine weaponry faded into echoes. The dust and smoke thinned, and Odin was left standing alone in the middle of what remained in New Bodhum. Triumph was not what filled the Eidolon upon achieving victory. Instead, he cast his ancient gaze upon the remains of his corrupted brethren and the innocent humans, and _felt_. It was a sensation he was unfamiliar with and had no experience to describe. He'd "felt" only once before, many, many centuries of unmarked time before.

Lightning saw herself appear in the past of Odin's mind. She saw the anger, the fear, and the resolve that he remembered of her spirit, all the things he remembered that had first called him to her. He'd remembered that the strength of her unbidden emotion had stirred the same feeling of _something_ within him then as it did in the aftermath of the Eidolon Wars. He tried to recall the humans' words for it – Sad? Sad's not strong enough. Hurt? He felt no such thing as pain. Despair? Yes, it had been despair that sent him to his master. Despair was what needed judgment. His purpose had been to cleanse despair from the forlorn l'Cie, and now he was feeling the one thing he'd been built to combat. And he couldn't pass judgment upon himself.

The voice of the goddess didn't return to him. She didn't present the sought-after judgment upon him. No one did. He was alone in a smoldering graveyard and no one came to cleanse the despair. He thought of his final master, a woman of honor and integrity that valued the few debts she owed. He hadn't felt she owed him anything for him simply carrying out his purpose. However, in the vulnerable nights sitting vigil while her companions slept in the wilds of the Pulsian mountains, she'd promised him that she would repay his service towards her.

He couldn't comprehend time. He couldn't understand that his human master couldn't live for an eternity like he could. He couldn't grasp that his falling into slumber upon the battleground may never end. If his master honored her debts, then she would awaken him and cleanse his despair as he had done for her. Odin waited. Odin woke up.

The memory ended and the vast infinitum of the Eidolon's mind slipped out of Lightning's. When she opened her eyes, the eidolith had reformed and sat in its place within the cradle of her palms, its light soft and content, aura warm against her clammy skin. Sweat was cooling in the creases of her hands and against the edges of her forehead from the vision's intensity. The raw heat of Odin's emotion left pinpricks behind in the pores of her skin, leaving it feeling as grainy and jumbled as the look of static. Lightning's fingers curled around the eidolith as she looked into the resting aura. The contented thumping of the ethereal heartbeat in her hands did little to hint at the magnitude of guilt he'd been carrying, and Lightning wondered if she'd already unwittingly spoken whatever balm he'd thought he needed. _"The war's over?"_

"Despair like that never really goes away," she murmured to the crystal. "You'll always have to carry it but, having a partner to help lift the weight does make it a little easier."

The rose's light surged and died in what might have been a relieved sigh from the sound of the smile in her voice. The burdens her Eidolon had carried were in part hers now, as hers were in part his. Lightning returned the sleeping eidolith to the safety of her breast-pocket and was then forced to confront the new issue brought up by Odin's memory. That made two stories which warned her against Etro today. She hadn't accepted the goddess's proposal on blind faith. She'd awoken in Arcadia with her eyes wide open to a prophecy filled with dark corners she couldn't see into, and now she was getting spotlights shown into those corners.

If she'd thought Etro hadn't told her the whole story before, it was becoming clear that there was much, much more the goddess had failed to share. She'd put her mark on Noctis long before Lightning had arrived and she was finding it hard to believe that coincidence had brought two people with ties to the goddess together. There was something at work there, something Lightning feared would jeopardize all that effort they'd put into trusting one another. Then, there was the new fact that it had been Etro's doing that turned New Bodhum into ruins. How could the goddess who had made humankind from her own blood be so nonchalant with their lives by relocating a divine war to their front doors? Or was that decision somehow linked with her and Noctis too? Was there even a link or was Lightning clutching red herrings to her chest from how desperate she was for a clue as to what she was doing? Maybe it all really was a coincidence.

Lightning couldn't wrangle with the incoherent mosaic of her mission for long. A noise in the vacant hall distracted her from her musings, a noise that hadn't come from her. It had been a low thump, like a door closing somewhere further off. Silence quickly resumed long enough for Lightning to assume that it may have been a sound carried down from the upper levels of the manor, but then the clicking started. It was a steady and heavy tap, like nails against glass, that started somewhere off to her left. They were footfalls, she could tell that much right away. As they became louder and thereby _closer_, she deducted further that they weren't _human_ footsteps. There were additional steps that didn't match the two-point rhythm of upright walkers.

The darkness to her side began to move with the nearness of the creature, the shadows clinging to broad, sinking shoulders and parting around glinting bared teeth. Long claws scratched against the tiled floor, their clicking now accompanied by the hot, heaving breaths coming from the animal's snout. It wasn't exactly the same as the ones she'd seen. The massive razors that had been on their heads were replaced on this one's with a stiff mane of crimson fur. The carnivorous rage in its eyes was the same though.

The behemoth's paws thudded like war drums on the ground, prowling for fresh meat. Lighting's breath halted in her chest, recalling to mind the various impromptu survival lessons Fang and Vanille had organized for their non-native brethren. Questions like how there could be a behemoth loose in the bowels of Caelum Manor didn't come to mind. The only questions she asked herself were how she was getting out of this alive. Her options were limited. She had no weapons on her, no magic to wield, and an out-of-commission Eidolon in her pocket. Even if she was properly equipped for the situation, in the past it had taken three of their l'Cie group to take down a behemoth on its own. None of them, especially the ones from Cocoon, had gone solo if they happened across one without back up.

So, she held her breath, standing as still as she could manage in her cluster of shadows, watching the hulking beast scout its way through the hall. The creature sniffed at the air as it went, wet, snarling whiffs. Lightning felt Odin rouse himself once he felt the quickening of her heartbeat and panic burst through the crystal once he realized he was incapacitated by his own "cool-down period." The initial conjuring of an Eidolon expended enough energy as it was, and that was without the magic they used once they were in battle with their masters. She couldn't summon him again for a good few hours and he cursed his own stupidity for wasting a Summon just for conversation. Lightning did her best to try and calm him but, it was difficult when her own heart was beating so loud she felt like the whole house could hear it.

Maybe it could, because the behemoth suddenly paused in its loping trek, lifted its head to sniff at the air, and swiveled in her direction. Bright yellow canine eyes glared through the gloom, connecting with hers as the beast's nose connected the line of her scent. She hardly had a second's worth of reaction time before the guttural roar bellowed out of the behemoth's jaws and forced her to make a run for it.

Her boots hit the tile hard, bolting down the length of the hall, the sound of her feet quickly overcome by the weighty gait of the behemoth giving chase. Her eyes darted quickly from side to side, squinting through the dimness in search of a narrow passage in the walls that she could fit through but the behemoth couldn't. She kept her eyes strictly forward, listening to the pounding gallop of the beast behind her to measure its closeness. She didn't have a good lead. She heard a change in the rhythm of its run as it lifted a foreleg to make a swipe for her. Lightning dove forward into a roll to dodge it, the claws carving into a pillar as it missed.

She came out of the roll and kept running, a furious howl following her as she whipped around a corner at the end of the hall. She cursed loudly when the turn didn't bring her into a narrow space but, into an even wider and open area. She hardly had half a breath to survey the area, finding chairs and tables neatly stacked along the walls, unlit chandeliers above covered in white sheets, and a corner bar at the far end. Fixed with all the trappings, Lightning guessed that this could be a ballroom. There were double doors closed at the far end and whether they led outdoors, she couldn't tell but, it was her only exit out of there. The challenge was trying to make it across such a spacious area without the behemoth catching up.

There were no tight corners she could duck around and no obstacles she could dump in its way to slow it down. Growling in frustration, she had no other choice but to run as hard and fast as she could. She didn't have time to form a plan with the giant creature right at her heels. As she charged across the massive room, she could feel the acrid heat of its breath against her back. Its deep grunts were deafening in her ears and the ground quaked beneath her feet with the force of its steps. It was going to get her, she thought in the brief moment where she heard its foreleg leave the ground again.

She braced herself for impact and the paw struck her in the side, throwing her off her feet and into the air like a cat toy. The room swept by in a blur of colored lines before she crashed into a stack of chairs, wood cracking beneath her and collapsing to the floor on top of her. She had just enough time to shield her head with her arms and waited for the avalanche of furniture to cease. When it stopped, she quickly assessed the damage to her body. Nothing vital seemed to be hit from the crash but, she was going to be so black and blue she'd make Noctis's wardrobe jealous. Her ribs where the behemoth had struck her were a different story.

Her whole right side screamed in protest as she struggled to dig herself out of the net of broken table legs. This was not a good position to be in. She had no means of defense, no foothold in the environment around her, and no chance at outrunning the behemoth now. Gritting her teeth as she braced an arm on the corner of a fallen table, Lightning squinted through the mess of splintered wood. The behemoth was pacing a few steps ahead of her, waiting to see if its prey had survived. Its trek cut between her and the doors to escape. If she could distract it somehow, she might be able to make it. Thinking fast and thinking recklessly, Lightning drew up a sloppy idea, snapping a chair leg off of its base to use as a weapon, the broken end as sharp as a spear if she needed it to be.

She crawled out of the wreckage, ignoring the pain shooting through her side and stumbling back out to confront the behemoth. It halted in its pacing, a low snarl rumbling up from its throat. Lightning's chest felt like a hunk of lead strapped to her shoulders, every breath coming in heaving gasps. Regardless, she made herself stand firm in her stance, gripping her makeshift weapon in hand. If she could get in close, she could blind the creature with the stake, distracting it long enough to make it to the doors. She would have to be fast, perhaps too fast for her body to achieve in its current state but, she had to try anyway. She wasn't dying like this.

"Come on then," she taunted the creature. "You want a taste?"

The behemoth growled, shoulders crunching together and pressing into a pounce. Lightning watched the muscles coil, waiting for the moment they sprung into a lunge, measuring her labored breaths and counting the spaces between them, calculating when to make her move. The behemoth surged forward and Lightning readied her weapon, heels digging into the floor. Then, just as she was about to raise her arm and strike down, a gust of frosty air blew through the room and a jagged chunk of ice came drilling into the behemoth's side, catapulting it out of Lightning's range. A splash of blood followed the monster's body where it landed, speared through and dead at the foot of the ballroom doors. The icy air clung to Lightning's screaming lungs and cooled the hot pain in her side just long enough for her to look around unhindered.

"C'mon, Light! I know it's been a while but, I didn't think you'd gotten that rusty."

She laughed in spite of herself, too relieved and too astounded to give much thought to her embarrassing lack of preparedness.

"Rusty? How 'bout you come over here and see if my fist in your face feels 'rusty'?"

"Nuh uh, twice was more than enough times for me, thanks."

He crossed the room to meet her, all bounding steps and goofy smiles with a glowing joy in his bright blue eyes that she doubted any expanse of time could ever dull.

"So, you've been hiding out here all this time? Ya'know, you hurt Serah's feelings by just up and disappearing like that. Cruel joke, Light."

"We can all laugh about it later. For now, how in the hell did you get here Snow?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** (Wrote out this whole big a/n and friggin LOST IT GDI)

Alternate titles for this chapter: Taken Tremendous Liberties; Ignis the Jealous Ex-Boyfriend; That Escalated Quickly.

It's long to make up for the long wait. Yeah. Lots of ground covered, lots of prophecies and visions semi-explained. Next chapter will be the tying up loose ends chapter, prepping for the Big Cheese (as I am referring to it). You'll know it when you see it, give it a couple chapters. Shit's happening, hooray! Review if you can! Love hearing from you guys! :)


	13. Still Alive

_XIII ~ Still Alive_

He was fine.

He thought he'd acted calmly, coolly, and provided concise instructions for the situation presented. He'd been the picture of professionalism – the ideal image that would make his father smile with pride. The porcelain shell his skin made above his heart was still, but everything trapped beneath it shook.

He hadn't panicked when he was told Lightning was missing. He hadn't bolted from the study to scour every last corner of the estate in search of her. He only started panicking when the stranger in the white trench coat pulled her half-conscious body through his doors.

Noctis had been issuing his apologies to Stella for needing to cut their meeting short when the giant double doors groaned inward. Katrina hurried to greet the new visitors as he helped Stella into her coat. His breath caught when he heard his maid's greeting rise to a high, alarmed pitch. He and Stella moved in time, eyes flashing with crystal light, as their first instinct was to prepare for a fight. Did the Fleurets know what she was doing? Had they come for her? They were both equal parts shocked and relieved to find that it wasn't a Tenebraen battalion breaking through his doors. Noctis was more shocked and scared than relieved, but he put on the facade that told everyone otherwise.

Lightning was battered and bruised, leaning an arm over the stranger's shoulders to stay upright. Her eyes struggled to stay open long enough to confirm for her escort that "this is the right place" before falling shut. The man she was slouched against quickly adjusted his grip to hold all of her weight, as the rest of her body followed into unconsciousness. A flicker of panic crossed the man's face before he looked to the people around him. He tried to smile, but it looked as unsteady as Noctis's insides felt.

"Um…special delivery?"

He tried to make light of an otherwise grim situation. Noctis wasn't sure if he hated that or not. If he did, he couldn't tell underneath his own voice when it finally started giving orders. Katrina needed to go up ahead to the guest room to turn down the bed. Noctis took Lightning's other side onto his shoulders and helped the man ease her up the stairs. They got her into bed and he told Katrina to get her comfortable while he went to find some potions. There was a storeroom downstairs somewhere. Of course there was. He lived there. It wasn't like there was a question about it. Still, he couldn't remember where in the hell that storeroom was now. Stella stopped him in the hallway, curling a hand around his arm to pull him back from the start of a frantic search.

"What are you still doing here?" he said, looking past her before his eyes focused enough to look _at_ her. "If you stay away too long, they'll get suspicious."

"I don't need to be reminded of what I already know. You need White Magic, Noct. It'll work far more quickly than any potion will. I'll do it."

"Stella, you don't have time…"

"_I'm doing it_."

She caught him in her cool, clinical stare – the one that could get a room full of politicians to kneel down and kiss her shoes. She stalked past him, never waiting for nor expecting his permission. As she passed, she muttered a reminder only he could hear.

"Breathe, Noct."

Was he forgetting to do that again? He'd heard that advice more than once today. Before he turned back around he did as she recommended, gulping down the shadows of the hallway like cheap wine.

He was fine…

* * *

><p>Stella worked her magic in no time at all. As she had said, he needn't have warned her about the consequences of extending her stay. She remained conscious of her time, but it had no effect on the quality of her attentions. She didn't hurry. She didn't half-ass her duty to give herself more time to return home. She did what was necessary for the task at hand and she did it with quiet efficiency.<p>

He couldn't have healed Lightning as quickly as Stella did. He knew the basic Cure spells, but war had forced Noctis to better augment his Black Magic more than his White. It as the inverse for Stella. Ever since she was a child, she'd always wanted to help people. The instant she was able to start practicing magic, she'd learned how to heal. She might never have learned how to burn if the war hadn't given her enemies to set on fire. Noctis thought this while he observed her quick work from the corner of the room.

There was a place at the edge of the bed where the stranger sat. While Stella weaved cuts closed and blended bruises back to the color of skin, Noctis watched him. Tall. Broad shoulders. Muscular build. Scruffy blond hair and a scruffier dust of a beard along his chin. He kept smiling throughout the whole ordeal and Noctis still didn't know if that made him a sadist or a mediator. He talked to Stella from the other side of the bed – meaningless things: small laughs for small jokes. Stella addressed his talkativeness with the same grace she addressed everything with. She smiled at anything he said, occasionally countering his humor with a witty quip, and did everything she knew to do for easing his anxiety.

The man was nervous and his lop-sided grin was his last wall of comfort to keep him from falling apart. His foot kept tapping silently under the bed and his hands kept pressing together between his knees. While whatever aimless words he was speaking were directed at Stella, his eyes kept shuttering to Lightning's face like if he didn't keep checking, he'd miss the moment she woke up. Noctis expected it wouldn't be long before she did once Stella was finished. She excused herself from the man's company with a gracious smile that had him ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. While her smile remained a smile once it had turned to Noctis, the lines of it darkened to a more solemn shade.

"She should be awake in a few minutes," she told him. "She looked worse than she was. The bump on her head was what knocked her out, otherwise, there was nothing too serious."

"Can you tell what did this?"

"She'll tell you when she wakes up, I'm sure."

He nodded, gaze fixed over her shoulder at the stranger. With her eyes still trained on his, Stella asked, "You've never seen him before?"

"Never."

"Need me to stay?"

"No, you've done enough," he said, pulling himself to focus on her again. "Thank you. For this and everything else."

She looked at him for a long moment, forcing him not to look away by the sheer intensity of her stare alone.

"You'll be careful?" she asked, bringing to mind the subject behind her original visit.

He forced a smile up the side of his mouth, but that was all he could give. He still didn't know what to do about that. She saw his uncertainty as she saw everything and stepped forward to fold her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him into an embrace.

"Stay strong. For all of us. I know that you can."

He was so sick of being strong when all he wanted was to shatter. But he couldn't tell her that. It wasn't fair to give up when she was still fighting. He couldn't leave her alone in this, but he couldn't promise her that he would remain steady against the flood of other men's ambition either. He didn't know if he trusted himself to do what was asked of him anymore. Stella heard him through how tightly he hugged her back and she held on even tighter in answer. If she wouldn't abandon him, he couldn't abandon her.

"You can," she said in goodbye, and she slipped away.

Speech seemed to have left with her because the murmurs that had filled the room silenced as abruptly as the door closing shut once she was gone. Lightning was breathing evenly and seemed to be resting easier. Her brow was set low in its unchanging thoughtfulness, like she was dreaming of all her problems the same as she confronted them in the waking world. Noctis almost found it in him to smile. Even mortally wounded, she kept going, kept thinking up her next move. He supposed that meant she really would be fine.

He glanced at the stranger again now that it was just the two of them. Once Stella was gone, his means of distracting himself had become limited. He'd taken to his feet and was pacing along the length of the bed, one hand made into a fist and repeatedly punching the open palm of the other. He didn't so much as breathe in Noctis's direction, to the point that he thought the stranger might have forgotten he was there entirely. Good, that was just the way Noctis wanted it.

He let the breath closed inside of him out in rhythmic streams, finding that fearsome place he'd made for himself just for dealing with suspicious faces for the war. With Lightning, when they'd first met, it had only worked to boil her into a challenge than to get answers. By the anxious mannerisms of this new stranger, Noctis doubted he'd have as difficult a time getting the answers he wanted. Stella told him to stay strong, and part of that meant being tough, so that he would do. When Noctis stepped from the shadows and called out to the man, he jumped as if he'd just seen a ghost materialize from the walls. He was quick to recover with a self-deprecating chuckle to settle his nerves.

"Man, you sure know how to sneak up on a guy. Didn't even see you there!"

Noctis's eyes narrowed in the face of the man's wide grin and he found himself hesitant to go full bad cop on the guy. There was an openness and earnestness about him that actually made Noctis _dread_ the idea of interrogating him. An image of a scolded puppy, with big, watery eyes and drooping ears, came to mind. While his chest pinched with guilt, Noctis pursed his lips and re-thought his course of action. What had Stella been doing to get him to talk? …She smiled.

"We've got to be stealthy around here," he tried, pulling the crooked edges of his broken smile as far up as he could. "Look what happens when we don't."

He nodded to Lightning and while the man laughed, it was only half-hearted when he looked to the sleeping woman.

"Yeah, Light's pretty quiet on her feet unless you catch her by surprise. This one's on me."

"How so?"

He grimaced, lowering his head in shame, and his voice was meek as he tried to explain, "Let's just say that whoever lives over there is gonna be really confused to find a giant behemoth body in their dining room. That's what got Light."

His answer unhelpfully raised about a million other questions in its place but, at the risk of overwhelming him, Noctis elected not to ask them just yet. Instead, he lingered on the familiarity with which he spoke of Lightning. "_My friends call me Light_," had been what she'd said when she'd allowed him the right to refer to her as such. It wasn't an easy accomplishment.

"You know each other?"

"Of course! Although, I think I've given her plenty of moments to wish we didn't know each other."

Every word was spoken in a laugh and Noctis still couldn't tell if it was because he was always optimistic or saw everything as a joke. It must have been the former, he thought. He wouldn't be so resistant towards being tough on him if it were the latter.

"The name's Snow, by the way! Sorry I didn't get the chance to introduce myself."

He reached down to clasp Noctis's hand in an emphatic handshake before Noctis could raise it himself. The gesture made his whole body shake, but it didn't shake recognition into his head. He didn't recall Lightning ever mention a "Snow" – although she hadn't mentioned much of anything about her past. She'd mentioned Hope Estheim only out of necessity and she'd mentioned her sister, Serah, only to cool the burn of his own festering vulnerability. He really didn't know anything about her, yet he felt like he'd known her for years. In actuality, those years must have belonged to his man – this strangely happy man that Noctis could never imagine Lightning voluntarily acquainting herself with.

"I'm Noctis," he said once his hand was released. "Noctis Caelum."

"So, you've been taking care of Lightning this whole time, I take it?"

"We've been trying to, but she doesn't really need any of my help."

"Yup, that's Lightning for ya. Well, thanks for being on her side anyway."

There was a pause where Noctis considered the man before him. It went without saying that he was a time traveler as well, and he was someone that Lightning trusted to get her back to Noctis's sanctuary. That fact alone was enough for Noctis to have no grounds to distrust him, but he couldn't be sure if Snow distrusted him and that smile was just pretend.

"Do you know where you are?" Noctis asked him.

"Not a clue. Nice digs though. And here we were all worried Light was battling for her life somewhere, but she's been living the life of luxury this whole time!"

Snow laughed and looked wide-eyed at the room around him. If Noctis knew better – and he most certainly did – he'd think Snow was evading his question. Eyes narrowing with suspicion, Noctis rephrased it.

"Do you know _when_ you are?"

Snow quieted, looking down at Lightning as if she would wake up and answer that question for him. He turned to Noctis with a sigh, scratching the back of his head just under the knot of his bandana.

"She told you that bit, huh?"

"Kinda hard to avoid…"

"Yeah, I'll bet… So, she really does trust you that much?"

Snow looked up at him with earnest blue eyes, eager for help, but hesitant to ask for it, as if circumstance had warned him against doing so where he might have done so before. Noctis merely nodded in response, not deigning to detail the nature of his relationship with Lightning. It was enough of an affirmation for Snow.

"Okay," he breathed in a rush. "Yeah, Light and I aren't from this time – obviously. In my time, Lightning went missing after we, err, saved the world n' stuff. We all thought we knew where she was, but my fiancée, Serah, was convinced something else happened to her. So, I decided to go look for her, which was easy once all these weird time portals started popping up all over the place and the new Hope popped up from the future to help us out with all the timey-wimey-sciency mumbo-jumbo. Took some hop-scotching through all of space-time, but looks like I finally found the right era – give or take a behemoth or two along the way."

Snow was just shy of saying "ta da!" when he spread his arms to finish, but the deadpan look on Noctis's face must have made him refrain. Halfway through his not-so-explanatory explanation, Noctis folded his arms over his chest as if they might guard him from the confused mess of words swarming from Snow's mouth. He remained stone-faced, throwing up the cool barrier to hide the panic of not knowing what in Etro's holy name he was talking about. He tried rephrasing Snow's words within the safety of his own head in the hopes that his own rationality could sort them into sense. His silence had a visibly unnerving effect on Snow. Those big, hopeful eyes lowered and he started doing that punching motion with his hands again. Just as things were about to get even more awkward then they already were, another voice broke the tense quiet.

"Gods, Snow, was any of that in English?"

Snow whipped around with a beaming grin at the sound of Lightning's voice. It was as steady and enduring as if she hadn't just recovered from a set of broken ribs. It pulled at Noctis, pulled his arms down to his sides, pulled his feet an urgent step forward, only to be pulled back to the shadows. He gulped down his concern like a ball of needles as he watched her push herself up on the pillows and look straight up at Snow.

"Slow down, would ya?" she grumbled at him.

"Welcome back, Sleepyhead."

"Sleep? How could I sleep with your big mouth shouting over my head?"

Snow made a wounded face and Lightning rolled her eyes, and Noctis saw it so clearly. He saw the one thing his selfish heart didn't want to see. He saw that there was no place for him by that bed. There was no place for him beside Lightning.

It had been so easy to pretend those last few weeks. It was easy to pretend that she'd always been a part of his world, the light that kept his own darkness at bay. He'd always been the master of pretending though, hadn't he? It had all been his own fantasy. That was clear to him now.

Here was this incarnation of the past she was so determined to go back to. He'd almost forgotten, in his own greed, just how badly she wanted to go home. It had started with Odin and was now only magnified with Snow. The way she retreated to old habits with them – little things Noctis had never seen in the short time he'd known her. She'd been a puzzle piece without a picture to fit into in his world, much as he tried to cut the pieces of his time to fit hers. Now, her picture was forming around her, her edges fitting into the edges of her life in the past. It was a picture that Noctis didn't fit into. He never really had.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Light," Snow said, bouncing down onto the edge of the bed. "You've got Serah in knots worrying about you, ya'know?"

"When don't I?" Lightning murmured, face growing solemn at the mention of her sister. "How is she?"

"Good," Snow replied, and it was the first time since he'd spoken that he sounded serious. "She could be better."

Lightning tilted her chin in a nod, eyes on the bedsheets bunched above her knees. She didn't wear her heart on her sleeve. Noctis knew that much about her. Even so, the profound sadness and guilt in her curt response to Snow was the most emotion he'd seen her give. And he felt like an intruder for it. Noctis quietly slipped towards the bedroom door, following the dim shadows of the corners to his exit. The light from the hallway exposed his silhouette though, and he braced a hand against the doorframe when she called him back.

"Where do you think you're going?"

_Nowhere I want to be_, he thought, but bit it down. He spoke over his shoulder without looking at her, dark bangs curtaining his eyes from hers.

"I'll give you guys some privacy to catch up."

"To hell with privacy."

The sheets rustled and he turned to find her balancing back on her feet, Snow's arm halfway out to help her if she needed him to. She didn't. She was unsteady for a moment only from the shock of having no pain to combat. She blinked in surprise, having expected much worse. She leveled her gaze at him once she settled on her heels, speaking deliberately and only for him.

"I know we planned to discuss this over din-… different circumstances. But with Snow here now, we can't put it off any longer. I need to tell you how I got here and I need to tell you right now."

* * *

><p>It felt <em>so<em>. _Damn_. _Good_. To finally talk about it. She had no idea if she was breaking some celestial law by discussing the promises of the Goddess, but since the skies didn't open up to smite her where she stood, she figured she was safe.

Lightning paced the room as she spoke, testing the extent of her recovered body and finding herself pleased with the results. Noctis had briefly informed her of Stella's quick assistance and Lightning made it a point to keep herself in debt to the princess for it. Snow stayed on the edge of the bed, taking up so much space with spread knees and hands fumbling between them while he listened to her story. He always was too big for the world – any world. Noctis sat curled in the corner of the windowsill, one foot on the floor, and the other crooked up on the sill beneath him, one arm resting against the knee. He gave her space to walk and space to talk, always far enough not to smother, but close enough to hear. They were each silent throughout her speech – which was a feat for Snow.

She described the strange, trance-like transition from the plains of Pulse to the realm of the Goddess. She detailed each word Etro spoke to her, Her voice just as clear in her head now as it had been then. She told them about waking up in the alleys of Arcadia and summarized the primary events since for Snow's benefit. He nodded attentively, grinning over at Noctis when she spoke of their first encounter and their alliance since then. Noctis didn't smile back, eyes keyed upon Lightning. She told Snow about the legacy Hope had left behind and he responded with an open-mouthed smile that was quickly crushed when she told him that New Bodhum had not fared so well.

There was no way to put it tenderly. His expression turned bleak, eyes leveled at the floor and jaw tightening his lips into a hard line. She didn't know how long he had spent in their re-built home before he'd left, but time or no time spent there, it was just as hard a truth to swallow for him as it had been for her. His expression hardly changed when she brought up Odin and the Eidolons' involvement in the New Bodhum catastrophe. His brow creased in confusion, but he barely even glanced up. She told him everything except her experiences with Noctis's Crystal, smoothly glossing over its particular relevance in the war when she explained the state of the world they were in.

Her eyes met Noctis's as she told the re-dacted version of his story. His gaze remained intense and watchful, yet there was something darker to it than usual. While her words for Snow didn't change, she said something much different to Noctis with no words at all. "_What's wrong?_" His eyes didn't change and neither did hers, but neither of them conceded. _Fine_, she thought. _Later, then_. For now, she'd finished filling in Snow and it was his turn to do the same for her.

She was reluctant to turn away from Noctis in whatever state of mind he was in, but Snow's explanation took precedence. His appearance had been the absolute _last_ thing she'd expected out of this seemingly endless mission and she needed to know what it meant. It had to _mean_ something, didn't it? Everything had to mean something. She refused to accept that none of it was connected. She refused to believe that Etro was just jerking her in a million different directions – that this was all a game and Lightning a pawn. She'd had more than enough of that for a thousand lifetimes.

There was silence while Snow absorbed all that she'd told him, and Noctis, with his unknowable stare, contemplated her prophecy from Etro. Lightning stopped her pacing to lean against the wall across from Snow, feeling a thousand pounds lighter now that the burden of Etro's enigma was shared to two different sets of shoulders. By the look on Snow's face though, Lightning had a feeling that freedom would feel short-lived. He breathed out a long, windy sigh, ducking his head and lacing his hands behind his neck.

"The Goddess of Death, huh? Just when I thought all of this couldn't get more complicated."

"I know the feeling," she agreed, holding herself back from glancing towards Noctis again.

Growling out loud and tapping his head against the air between his knees like there was a hardwood desk there, Snow pulled himself upright and organized everything he needed to explain.

"Okay, the best place to start is the beginning, right? I guess something went wrong with most of our memories – maybe it had something to do with that place you met Etro in. We were all sure that you were stuck in Cocoon's pillar with Fang and Vanille once we woke up on Pulse and you weren't with us. Serah was the only one who thought differently. It was ugly, Light, you should have seen her face. I thought that maybe it was just the grief and shock talking, but for weeks – _months_ – later, she kept swearing that she'd seen you standing on Pulse with us. She was positive and eventually, I believed her. I promised that I would find out what happened to you for her. We fought so hard to bring Serah back and I couldn't accept that I'd brought her to a world without her sister in it. I _had_ to make it right.

'So, I left what we'd started to build of New Bodhum, but I didn't get very far. Not far from town, up in the hills, I found something strange. It's difficult to explain what exactly it looked like, but it was big and bright, and it made this humming sound like nothing I'd ever heard before. When I reached out to touch it, these banners with some weird lettering on them pulled me up off the ground. There was a huge flash of light and all of a sudden, I was in this tunnel of giant, spinning gears and a million stars smashed together just outside of it. It was incredible! You don't remember seeing anything like that before you got here, do you?"

Lightning pursed her lips and thought back, shaking her head when no such image appeared in her memory.

"I was out when I got here. I might have been unconscious in transit, too. I remember that bright light though."

"I learned later that it was called the Historia Crux and that thing I went through in New Bodhum was a Time Gate. How I figured that out is where things get a little tricky. When I landed on the other side of the Historia Crux, I was ten years into the future. Not gonna lie, I was pretty freaked out, but it was all made better when I met a familiar face. Hope was there, all grown-up and super smart. Kid's a genius and after what you told me about the Estheims here, man, I'm not surprised. Anyway, this Hope had been studying time anomalies that started acting up on Pulse once we saved Cocoon. He couldn't tell me much about what was happening because he barely knew himself. All he'd found out was that something had stirred up this nasty stuff called Chaos on the day you went missing. This Chaos was messing with time and changing the future, and neither of us knew what to make of it because neither of us really understood some of the things that happened on that day. Who knows what could have caused it? It could have been any number of things. I still don't get how we could have escaped crystalstasis like we did. I mean that… that was like…"

"…An act of God?"

Both Lightning and Snow looked up in surprise when Noctis broke his silence. Lightning trained a stare his way, encouraging him to share whatever theory he might have to contribute. He uncurled from his position and sat with both feet on the floor, fingers forming a steeple beneath his nose.

"I may know what happened. Although we know next to nothing about l'Cie, this 'crystalstasis' you're describing sounds like the reward for completing your Focus, is that right? Instead of dying and going to Valhalla, you gain eternal life through a preservative sleep."

"Some reward," Lightning mumbled. "But you've about summed it up."

Noctis nodded, slowly, carefully picking through his thoughts for the ones that made the most sense.

"Here, Etro is regarded by most as the only deity who sympathizes with humanity. In many religious texts, stories have been told of Her divine intervention, resultant of Her taking pity on human beings subjected to particularly devastating experiences. Miracles that no science or magic could explain were attributed to the mercy of the Goddess. Your being released from crystalstasis, against every fact that said otherwise, may have been such an act of mercy."

Snow's face slackened, stunned by the possibility. Lightning kept her feelings about the idea barred down deep in the pit of her stomach. So, she was chosen for this crazy quest out of some debt she didn't know she owed to Etro? So much for "having qualities required for this mission." Lightning stayed focused on Noctis's thoughtful expression, eyes narrowing.

"There's something else?"

His brow creased and he was hesitant to meet her stare. When he did, the concern that shaded his gaze made her heart twist.

"You said that these 'time anomalies' started after you saved Cocoon?" he said to Snow, who gave him an absent nod. "Both Etro and the element of Chaos originate from the Unseen Realm – the Realm of the Dead – Valhalla. The only way we know for Chaos to exist outside of the Unseen Realm without damaging mankind is if it's in a container. Human souls contain seeds of Chaos and the Crystals, at their core, contain Chaos. It gives them that will which is so similar to humans' and enables us to be connected."

"Crystals?" Snow interrupted, massaging his temples against the strain of keeping up with all the new information.

"Think fal'Cie without minds," Lightning tried. "Or a lust for enslavement."

"Raw Chaos," Noctis went on, "has never been studied because it can't exist in our world without being contained… So, how can it exist in your time?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Snow groaned. "All I know is that it's trouble – creating alternate timelines, bringing events of one time into the events of another… Hope had a word for it… I think he calls them paradoxes: things that aren't meant to happen, but keep happening because of this Chaos nonsense."

"If Etro intervened on your behalf, She would have had to reach through the Gates of Valhalla to touch the Realm of the Living. Perhaps the Chaos leaked through against Her will. What I don't understand is what any of this has to do with Her prophecy to you."

Noctis dropped his hands over his knees and looked back at Lightning, searching her face for any hints that something of all this made sense to her. She could only shake her head and shrug in response.

"All I know is that She wants me to find and destroy something that's able to kill Her. Problem is, I don't know what the hell could kill the Goddess of Death."

The three of them sat in silence, deliberating. If she was confused before, Lightning was doubly confused now. Chaos and Time Gates and containers… On top of everything else she'd learned that day, she didn't know what to think about any of it anymore. As she looked between the two of them, she realized that neither did they. At least she wasn't alone there, although the thought brought her little comfort.

"It's been a long day," Noctis cut into the quiet, lifting to a stand. "You must be tired."

He turned to Snow, eyes sweeping him from head to toe like he'd done the first night he'd met Lightning. He was calculating his guest's state of health or comfort, and was checking the boxes in his good host handbook for what he would need to accommodate the needs of his visitor.

"I'll show you to your room."

"Um, thanks, but… Can I talk to Lightning for one quick sec?"

She arched a brow, confounded that he had anything else to tell her after all he'd already said. Noctis sent her a questioning glance to which she crooked a smile in reply.

"Just don't go too far."

He nodded, but didn't smile back, and that made her heart twist for a whole set of different reasons.

"I'll be right outside."

He melted from the room like ice off the cobblestones, the door closing with barely a whisper behind him. Lightning frowned when he was no longer there to see her do so, eyes on the door he'd vanished behind. His demeanor troubled her. She didn't know if it was just because of Snow, and that was how he reacted to every new face he met. It seemed deeper than that though. He was back to the stone-faced soldier she'd met on the battlefield, like all those weeks of coaxing out his smile had never happened.

A tingle up the back of her neck reminded Lightning that she wasn't alone to ponder Noctis's sullen change of attitude. When she turned, she found Snow looming over her, hands on his hips and grinning like he'd just cuddled a Moogle.

"The hell you smiling about?" she barked at him, putting about five feet back between them.

"I just missed ya, sis," he said, looking like he was about to step up and hug her.

A not-so-light punch in the ribs made him keep his distance and he doubled over the fist with a pinched chorus of laughter.

"I didn't miss you," she growled. "And I'm not your sister."

"And my body didn't miss you," Snow wheezed, recovering from the sharp blow to his side. "And still no? I thought we were getting along so well!"

"Sure, we are, but you're not married just yet."

Snow smiled at the reminder and she pushed down the smirk that tempted its way out in response.

"By the way," he said, straightening upright. "I'm sorry that the big bad behemoth said 'hi' to you before I could. My bad."

"That was because of you?"

"I might have been running for my life from it in one of the paradox timelines. Guess it must have fell into the Time Gate after me."

Lightning slanted a scolding glare at him and he just smiled in apology. _Just like old times_, she thought.

"Paradox timelines," she repeated. "Just when we thought our lives couldn't get any crazier, right?"

"Right. Gods, I've been jumping through so many timelines, I don't even know which one's right anymore!"

"What do you mean?"

"The way Hope tried to explain it, time can only move in one direction or something. This Chaos stuff is forcing time to move in a way it was never meant to – cutting off, branching out, folding back… It's nuts. The Time Gates can take you to any of the results of those distortions, or it can take you to how history's supposed to go. Hope had a theory and now I think I get it after what your friend said. Etro pulling you out of our time was the first paradox. Taking something from one time and putting it in another is what I think contributes to the distortions. What Hope was theorizing was that if you could remove whatever was conflicting with the original timeline and send it back to its own, that history could be fixed."

"So…you think if I go back to the past, this mess with the Chaos could be prevented?"

Snow shrugged. "It's just a theory. Aaaaand I've said all I think I wanted to. I'm gonna go get some shut-eye. How many bedrooms does this place have anyway?"

Lightning grabbed him by the forearm as he passed, jerking him to a stop. He flinched like he was afraid she was going to punch him again for some reason, but when he faced her, Lightning's face was blanched white and severe.

"There's only one correct timeline," she said, voice low and calculating. "That's what you're saying. Us completing our Focus is what's right. Me being sent here isn't. If one thing pulled out of time and put into another is a paradox, then how do I know that this time – where we're standing, right now – isn't a timeline that's not supposed to exist?"

Snow's eyes followed her lips as they moved, concentrating hard on what she was saying when the seriousness of her tone called him to attention. His brow smoothed in understanding by the time she'd finished and his always up-turned lips turned down in a rigid frown. It looked so wrong on his face.

"I don't know, Light," he murmured, casting a knowing glance to the door and all whom lay beyond. "There's no way to know for sure. There's no way to know if what we think about the Chaos is even right. Like I said, it's all just a theory."

"I need better than theories, Snow!"

She all but screamed at him, throwing his arm out of her grasp. She regretted the shout immediately, but he didn't seem hurt by it. His face was sympathetic, as if he knew something she didn't about why this news came as such a disaster to her. Lightning's mouth pressed into a thin line as he analyzed her. _Snow, analyzing_, she said to herself, bitterly. Who knew she'd live to see the day? She pressed a hand to her forehead to smother the violent edge to her thoughts, breathing deep like she'd been doing all her life in times of crisis.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Go get some rest. They'll take good care of you here. I promise."

"You gonna be okay?"

"Of course. Now get going."

Her answer was clipped and short which told Snow all he needed to know: that there was nothing he could do or say that would make anything "okay" if she was right.

He left the room with the first fake smile she'd ever seen him put on, greeting Noctis on the other side where he was leaning against the railing of the landing across the way. Katrina was leaned next to him and darted to her feet when her new charge was introduced to her. She quickly swept him along the hallway, already asking him what his favorite dish was as they went. They were gone in an instant and Lightning was left staring at Noctis, framed through the doorway, hands curled around the banister.

He knew. He didn't know why, but he knew that something had changed. She couldn't hide it from her face quickly enough for him not to see it. Those eyes saw everything.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice as quiet as the night.

"Nothing," she said after a beat, and in that beat, she'd told him exactly the opposite.

His eyes were dark under the shade of his hair and made darker still by the sleepless rings just beneath them. She hadn't noticed the difference in his appearance since last she'd seen him that day. His back was set very straight, like there was a compressor around his spine. His hands clung white around the banister and his neck seemed strained against some invisible wire that kept it straight.

"Your turn," she said, voice pinched with thorns.

He was silent in response, which told her far more than what she'd told him.

"It's not nothing," he continued as if she hadn't spoken.

It was everything. Everything he'd ever known: his history, his culture, his country, his family. All of it could be a lie if what Snow told her was true. They could be standing in a paradox timeline. She could be the very element that determined his existence. It was so _ridiculous_. Time travel and turmoil, paradoxes and princes, deities and dead roses… Not even her father's old science fiction comics that she'd found in the attic once, imagined such a fantastical story. It didn't seem real, and maybe that was because it wasn't. None of this was ever meant to happen, was it?

"Just nostalgic," she lied to him in answer, and he knew that too. "Good night."

She quickly closed the bedroom door, his dark visage slipping from her sight behind it. The door closed with a click and she leaned her head against it, teeth clenched together so hard she tasted metal. Everything was wrong.

On the other side, Noctis lingered, staring at the frame of the door that had just depicted Lightning so clearly. Now, there was nothing. The thought echoed through his hollowed out heart. There had always been nothing.

Despite it, something still tugged Noctis forward to the door. There was nothing there to pull at him, yet somehow there was everything. They were of two separate times. There was no place for her in his, and no place for him in hers. One negated the other, so there was just nothing that connected them. Practically, tactically, this made sense to Noctis. And yet, he'd always argued with sense.

It made sense to eliminate Idola before he eliminated them.

But…

It made sense for Stella to betray her family to help them win the war.

But…

It made sense for Ignis to mistrust anyone he thought might do his best friend harm.

But…

It made sense that Lightning didn't belong in Arcadia, just like he could never belong in New Bodhum, and that there was nothing keeping them beside one another…_but_…

His fingers brushed the closed door between them, light and soundless and hardly touching the wood. The door meant nothing, but behind it was everything. If only the door would open. He couldn't force it, though. For all his power, none of it could make that door open.

Noctis's touch fell away from the door, and on the other side, Lightning kept fighting not to scream. Her head must have been bruising with how hard it was bearing against the door. Or it was all that she had known and not known, clawing at the insides of her skull, that made it ache.

She pushed away, marching to the window like there was an answer in the thinning veil of snow just outside. There was a non-stop race-track of "what if"s spinning just behind her eyes and she had no answers for them.

What if this future wasn't real?

What if the Goddess had never pulled her from the past?

What if she failed in whatever mission Etro had assigned her?

What if she succeeded?

What if she never figured out what the hell she was supposed to do?

Lightning swore out loud and her fists crashed upon the windowsill. None of it made any sense. There was no logic to Etro's whims. Lightning was becoming more and more convinced of that. She dragged Lightning out of her time, screwing all of history, for what? An insurance policy? Find and destroy something that _might_ be able to kill Her from a time that might not even be meant to happen? Was that really worth risking all of humanity's history? Could She be that selfish?

Noctis made it sound like Etro had always been a pious god and from the little she remembered of the legends of Cocoon, she'd been lead to believe the same. She wasn't so sure anymore. Noctis's mother died because of Her. Odin was abandoned from Valhalla because of Her. Lightning had been stolen from Serah because of Her.

Hadn't she? No, that wasn't right. Lightning had chosen this. She'd wanted to save Fang and Vanille from their fate. They deserved to live in the new world they'd saved just as much as the rest of them. Etro had promised her their lives in return for completing this quest. She was starting to lose sight of that.

Right on cue, she felt the tug on her soul that linked her to Odin. His crystal had been left to sleep in the pocket of her jacket, slung upon the bedpost. Sensing her despair as he had so many years ago, he tried to ease it. Gently, this time. No swords. Regardless, Lightning willed him away, telling him to keep resting. While he didn't try to comfort her, he stubbornly remained present in her mind, standing sentinel within her as she tried to reconcile all the facts.

Etro spared the l'Cie from crystalstasis, causing Chaos to come through the Gates of Valhalla. The presence of Chaos enabled deformations in time, scrambling and tearing at the rightful order of history. Lightning was made out of order when Etro sent her to Noctis's world. That made her the architect of a paradox, didn't it? What she didn't know was if this time was a rightful part of history she was messing up, or if it was an alternate history that was messing up hers. Assuming she was the cause of the paradox, if she removed herself from this time, would it cease to exist altogether? Or would it remain as a predetermined future for humanity?

Then, there was the question of Chaos. What Snow described was raw Chaos, an element that was a paradox in of itself by existing in a realm it shouldn't. Yet, Noctis's entire world was built on products of Chaos. Was that proof alone that this world shouldn't exist? Was a time where Chaos could be controlled outside of the Unseen Realm be the true paradox? How was she ever supposed to know?

Lightning's fingers knotted through her hair, elbows on the windowsill, face to the glass. Caelum Manor loomed across the lawn, suffocating the last light of the sunset beneath its shadow. In the corner of her eye, the end of the glass hall that lead to the Crystal's sanctum drew her attention. Why had Etro been so determined to make Noctis a Guardian when the Crystal may have hesitated? Why could She see through all other Crystals besides his? Why did it choose to show Lightning that vision?

A cold realization seeped through Lightning's skin. When she asked herself one question – _what was her mission_ – and pretended that Snow's appearance had never happened, every question that branched from the original led to one place.

She wasn't the only thing that didn't fit in this world.

Against all facts to the contrary, the Eternal Crystal did not act in accordance with the laws that governed all other Crystals. It wasn't supposed to rebel against the Goddess. It wasn't supposed to reflect the will of its Guardian instead of Etro's. It wasn't supposed to be the last energy source that sparked a worldwide war either, was it? Because it wasn't supposed to exist.

"Paradox."

The word whispered unnaturally past her lips like it was a curse, which wasn't untrue. Regis had referred to the unorthodox Crystal as a blight upon the Caelums. It took the death of his wife for him to see it, but nonetheless, Lightning imagined such an unusual Crystal had caused many more problems than one in the past. It didn't make sense in this world. This future was a place of order and violence. You cut throats like you cut corners to maintain balance between the countries. The strong survived above the weak by allying themselves with the stronger. The Eternal Crystal didn't follow the order. It tipped the balance and made the world split into disarray.

The world had been in conflict long before Lightning had arrived in it. She wasn't the catalyst. Not this time.

She wasn't the paradox.

And she wasn't relieved.

It felt like there was a tourniquet around her lungs, halting the air she needed to breathe. Was that it then? Was that the goal of Etro's mission? That Crystal? _His_ Crystal? What threat did it pose to Her? If Regis's account was any indicator, the Goddess had no trouble with wresting control from the Crystal when it suited Her. Why couldn't She destroy it Herself if She was worried it might destroy Her? Why did the gods do anything, really? Nobody knew.

All Lightning did know, as she stared at that shell which led down to the Crystal, was that she'd been played again. Puppet strings were wrapped around her throat, digging beneath the skin and pulling sharp in two different directions. A deep, bleeding divide opened up inside her, scarlet waves drowning the edges so she couldn't see where to step her feet. She was treading water, flailing out in open sea with no beach in sight.

She _needed_ to go home. She needed Serah like she needed blood pumping through her heart. Taking that Crystal, destroying that Crystal, and resolving this apparent paradox, would get her back to her sister. Serah was the seed of everything Lightning trusted in herself. She needed to make up for all she'd done to her. She needed to tell her she loved her and that every word she'd said to the contrary was a mistake. A sin. She'd spend the rest of her life repenting for them.

But…

On the other side of the blurred divide, away from Serah, away from home, was Noctis. And she _wanted_ to stay with him. That was the biggest paradox of them all, she thought with a bitter snort. It made the least amount of sense out of everything for her to want one man over her need for her sister. Loving Serah was absolute. It was infallible and unshakeable beneath all the garbage her own pride put on it. Loving Noctis was selfish. It was greedy, and senseless, and made her stupid, and reckless…

_Did you say love?_

The thunderous rambling of her thoughts back-pedaled suddenly. _Loving Noctis_, she'd thought. Was that really what it was? _Love? _…No. She loved her sister, she loved her friends – her companions, her _family_ – she loved Odin, but she didn't love them like she loved Noctis.

…No, that wasn't right… That's not what she'd meant…

But it was.

Lightning loved Noctis. The way her chest swelled when he smiled, the way it curdled sour when he didn't; the way her instincts softened when he asked her what was wrong, the way they sharpened to razor points when he told her what was wrong; the chilled evenings – on the bench, on the roof – when each of them were at their lowest, made warm by the other's attentiveness… It all narrowed down to that, didn't it? That was love.

"Huh."

She sighed into the silence of the bedroom – this bedroom that wasn't hers, but made her feel like she belonged – and she admitted it to herself. She loved Noctis. And if she was ever going to see her home again, she had to break her own heart by crushing his.

The answers to what she should do all started with "if"s. If she took that Crystal, this time – with all its people – _might_ cease to exist. It might not. If she took it and this time wasn't erased, she had to go back and would never see him again. She might become the next paradox if she remained. If she didn't take the Crystal, if she went against Etro's will, she would never see Serah again. Her promise to Etro would be broken if she remained passive and she would be owed nothing. If she did nothing, what would become of the Chaos and all its distortions? Would everything she knew then and now be in jeopardy? Would she be giving Noctis a slow death as opposed to a quick one by not taking the Crystal? Would she kill Serah?

There was too much that she didn't know so, Lightning focused on what she did. She knew she had a choice. She didn't know what lay beyond either side of those choices, just that she could never have both.

In the silence, in the darkness, in the cold of her own despair, Lightning watched the shadows swallow day into night, and she knew what she had to do.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Update on the author's fraying state of mind: My brain _hurts_. The entire time travel aspect of XIII-2 always confused me so, I had to do A LOT of research and replays and reaching for the nearest pint of ice cream to numb the pain in my skull by the end of it.

This was always going to be a kind of alternate XIII-2, I guess. If anything can make me cringe about the progress of this story, it's looking back and realizing that I started it _before_ XIII-2 was released. Like Chapter 1 was a product of the first teaser trailer for XIII-2, can you even believe that!? I'm ridiculous, but I think we all knew that already.

I know not as many people were excited to see Snow at the end of the last chapter as I thought, which I don't get. I've always had a soft spot for Snow and since the way things played out with Lightning and Etro in the beginning, I didn't see how it was possible for Noel to exist in this story in his rightful place as Savior of All Space-Time - and by extension, Serah. Also, I thought I was piling enough new things on Lightning this chapter without introducing a total stranger spiriting her sister across time to come crash at her boyfriend's winter retreat. One day, I swear I'll give Noel a chance to shine, but sadly, it is not this day. So, Snow! Plus, he's a little ray of sunshine in this dark little world they're living in. Needed to lighten the mood.

Oh, and, yay, one of them finally said the L-word. Ahahahaha, enjoy it while it lasts... I mean, what?

I thank the reviewers a lot - which isn't going to change, any time soon - but I'd also like to thank my little band of unsung heroes that keep favoriting and alerting this story in between chapters. Though you're silent, I know you're there - creepy, right? - and I appreciate you reading and clicking the button to let me know you've boarded the ship and are along for the ride! And, as always, thank you everyone whose reviewing. Can never sum it up enough how much all your words mean to me!

The "Big Cheese" is coming soon! Everything's falling into place, all the questions are going to be answered, or I'll die trying to answer them, anyway, and the ship's tugging along. Happy early holidays! The next chapter will see you in the New Year! :D


	14. Silhouettes

_XIV ~ Silhouettes_

It was dark at dawn. Black clouds blotted out the sunrise, swelling with muted thunder as they came. Lightning in the distance. A faraway reflection.

She dressed in the darkness. The uniform fit to her skin like a lost friend, embracing the curves of her body in hungry familiarity. _We're going to battle_, it said. The well-tended fabric was electrified with anticipation. Too long had it gone without the stressed scent of sweat; without the dressing of dust from crumbling rubble; and without the hot paint of blood against white leather.

_It wasn't going to come to that_. If she could help it, she wanted to avoid a fight altogether. What she was about to do would hurt enough people as it was. If she didn't have to shed a single drop of his – of someone else's – blood… Maybe that would make it a little more bearable. Maybe she could live with herself when it was all over, knowing that she'd never physically harmed anyone.

_You're just fooling yourself_. She knew this, but she tried to ignore it anyway. Nothing could mend the wound she was about to inflict, both against herself and… She couldn't think of him. If his name passed through her thoughts, so too would his face. And his face was always smiling in her mind. If she thought of him, she'd see that smile crushed under the bloodied heel of her boot.

She couldn't think of him.

She had to think of Serah. This was all for her. If nothing else was real or right – if this history wasn't true, if her assumptions were wrong – protecting Serah was her only truth. It was the only thing left for her to rely on. It was absolute.

…_Focus on your ultimate goal and shut out everything else_.

It was easy enough to follow if "everything else" wasn't beating against the doors so hard it was tearing the hinges off the sides.

The gunblade was waiting for her, patient in the stillness. She took too long fastening every buckle of her uniform. Avoidance. Prolong the inevitable. Don't think about all the times you've aimed it at him and your bullets never hit. Don't think about how you might not have a choice but to land them this time.

The steel was sharp and clean. Disuse hadn't merited neglect. She unfolded the blade from its holster and every component hissed into shape at the command of her touch. The sound had once ignited sparks in her blood. Each battle was a dance with death that she was always leading. The enemy never knew they weren't in control until the song of bullets came to a close and she had them dropped back over her knee. Deception made for the deadliest tango.

Which dance was she stepping into now? Who was the temptress in this song, the deceiver of deceivers? How did she bend this partner to his knees? _Could she?_

_It's not a question of can or can't…_

The past was closer to her now than it ever had been. Every question she'd woken up to in the bitter air of the alley had an answer. She just didn't know if they were the right answers.

_Still your mind… Move on instinct…_

The gunblade returned to the holster like a sleeping dragon crawling back to a cave of gold. When it next awoke, its wrath would be unquenchable. She could already feel the heat of its flames as it bumped against the back of her knees. Back to its rightful place, following her as she ran from the world. Her weapon was prepared for war. Less so was her shield.

Odin hummed steadily upon the bedside table. He was restored to his full strength, ready and able to rend havoc if it was asked of him. However, her uncertainty was mirrored in his petals. She rounded the corner of the bed and set her palm over him, drawing what little comfort she could from the heat of his soul.

_Is this what you want?_

She had no answer for him. She didn't want any of this. She didn't want to have hurt Serah by pushing her away. She didn't want to have born the brand of a l'Cie and torn Cocoon from its seat in the sky. She didn't want for Fang and Vanille to have sacrificed themselves to rescue two worlds from the return of an unknown god. She didn't want to have fallen through time, to have fallen at the feet of royalty at war, to have fallen in… She didn't want this, but she wanted to go home. And home was where her sister was.

Odin resolved himself to her will, conflicted though it was, and was delivered to her utility bag, straps wound around her thigh like so many poisonous snakes. Armor, weapon, and shield were all equipped, but not together. The agent which bound them into a single unit was unlinked. When she looked across the room and met her reflection in the vanity mirror, she realized what was missing.

Lightning wasn't there. She knew the woman in the mirror, but it wasn't her. Walking closer only magnified the truth, only made whole the horror of what was about to happen. She walked until she was nose to nose with her. With Claire. Wilting girl, _Claire_. Sad. Scared. Weak. _Pathetic._

Lightning's fingers gripped the edge of the dresser and they were her fingers that felt the polished wood beneath her nails. Her hands didn't belong to Claire. Claire didn't earn the callouses grown from clenching a trigger. Claire didn't earn the scars on her knuckles from breaking bones. Claire didn't earn the unseen bloodstains, scrubbed out of sight but that still lingered, just beneath the skin. Claire had no place in her armor. Claire didn't deserve to wield her blade. Claire was not the master of her Eidolon.

Lightning's eyes steeled over and Claire was strangled back into her coffin. She'd lost the right to judge Lightning's decisions when she failed to find her own courage to do what needed to be done. Claire never had Serah's best interests at heart. Claire didn't know what was worth protecting and, if she did, she didn't know how to protect it.

Lightning knew exactly what needed protecting. And she knew exactly how to do it.

Claire died and so too did the rest of Lightning's doubt.

* * *

><p>He hadn't slept. If he closed his eyes, he saw Her face. Her eyes were black with an untold malice, compiled from infinity, and Her gaze pierced a sourceless terror through his bones that rendered him motionless. Trapped. Trapped in the ice. Trapped in the Crystal. Drowning. Dying. <em>Mother.<em>

Noctis forced his eyes open before the nightmare consumed him once more. The coals in the fireplace were cold and the study was gray-dark in the smothered dawn light. The night had been long, laden with unfair desires and secret truths that smoldered in the flames he'd kept lighting to distract himself. A snap of his fingers and he could create something from nothing. He could have everything he never wanted. Just not what he did.

He didn't want a fire to watch all his passions be cauterized in the flames. He didn't want to keep looking over his shoulder, wondering when Tenebrae was going to bring the war to his doorstep. He didn't want to keep feeling sick, wondering if Stella had been found out and the consequences she'd have to suffer if she was. He didn't want to wonder if he was never going to speak to Ignis again, if he was never going to see eye to eye with his father again, or if he was never going to have a chance to tell Lightning how he felt.

He'd been sitting on it for a long time – perhaps, too long. He'd never been in denial about it or anything. He'd always known that he'd been feeling _something_, but he couldn't put a name to it. It'd been respect, at first. Then, curiosity. Fascination. Admiration. Infatuation… Individually, he had names for them. It was when they folded in together to create something new that he had no name for it.

Whatever it was, he had no right to feel it. Whatever it was, it was selfish – possessive, even. And it disgusted him. He had no claim over Lightning, like she was an object to be bid upon. If he knew this – if he valued this – why then did he grow so distraught when he saw her with Snow? Why did he feel so _robbed_, thinking about when she would inevitably return home?

_Because this feeling has a name. It's greed._

Was it really so simple? Was what he felt really something so base and repulsive as greed? The possibility festered, cancerous, in the pit of his stomach. _He didn't want this_.

A presence, shuffling through the study doors, abruptly pulled Noctis from the deep chasm opening up inside of him. He was grateful for the distraction, albeit confused by it.

"So intense in here," Prompto chirped, tumbling into the chair across from Noctis. "You'd think you're plotting for world domination or something."

It took Noctis a moment to adjust to Prompto's sudden appearance. A quick survey determined at least half of the how and the why of his being there. Day old clothes, rumpled hair, and glassy eyes equated to a late night of gods knew what and no bed to sleep it off in.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Rolled in around two, I think? Camped out in the dining room. Don't tell Kat I slept on the table. I'd like to live and it was _so comfy_."

"Ten extra bedrooms and you slept on a _table_?"

"Hey, it was me versus the stairs, one to fifteen, and I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of tripping me on my ass. The table was _so comfy_!"

"So you mentioned."

Prompto laughed because he had nothing else to add, but the silence was too thick not to fill with sound. He glanced around the room, an aimless meandering of the eyes meant to come off as distracted when he was really looking for something to answer his own questions. Why was Noctis sitting, alone, in a dark, cold study? How long had he been sitting there? What was on his mind?

"You look more like hell than I do," he started.

"You're the second person to tell me that in the past twenty-four hours."

"At least your friends are honest."

"Yeah, at least you are."

It was a self-condemning statement and it didn't slip from Prompto's attention. With a creaking stretch of sleep-stiff joints, Prompto straightened in his chair and scooted it forward across the carpet until he was in whispering distance.

"Tell Dr. Argentum your problems," he said, open palms and open ears.

Although reckless to the point of being hazardous, Prompto always provided a different perspective on things. Being the only one born outside of a royal faction, his opinions were relatively unbiased. His outlook on the carousel politics and social sinkholes was indifferent and, thereby, a refreshing change of pace for Noctis. The lens Prompto looked through had always been an invaluable resource for helping him to stay objective. It was well worth his off-putting optimism and devil-may-care enthusiasm for, what Ignis deemed as, "derelict misbehavior."

"Is this about your girlfriend?"

Prompto prodded at the silence when no confessions were forth-coming to his offer. Noctis's gaze narrowed to razor points against the question, points that Prompto avoided addressing by casually inspecting each crease in the leather of his gloves. After a few, stubborn moments of neither man contributing a response, Prompto finally clarified.

"By 'girlfriend,' of course I mean your friend who happens to be a girl – woman, 'cause – damn – she's _all_ woman. You know, the one you're technically _living_ with, sharing all your food with, going on romantic dates to shop for clothes with…"

"Are you getting to a point, any time soon?"

"I dunno. You tell me."

Prompto was much smarter than he ever let on. His tactics – whether on the battlefield or off – lent themselves to disorienting the opponent. Make them think they know where you are, that they have the upper hand when they couldn't be further away and you're hiding in plain sight, ready to take the shot. Make them underestimate you – trick them into looking the wrong way – then pull the trigger from behind.

Noctis knew this – better than most. Noctis thought he knew a lot of things better than he did.

"There's no point to get," he lied, and it couldn't be more transparent to Prompto's keen eye.

"Seriously? You're gonna pull that shit with me?"

He was at a loss. He couldn't say what was on his mind because, by doing so, it would solidify the truth of his gluttonous longings. He didn't think he could face himself if it did. And how did he explain such a thing to Prompto, a man that acted on his impulses with no regard for the consequences? He knew what advice he would give him: "Screw that! Just go for it! See what happens instead of guessing what happens." Noctis wished it were so easy.

He opened his mouth to dissuade Prompto from pressing the issue, but he raised a staying palm and shut him up on the spot.

"If you even _think_ about saying 'it's complicated,' I _will_ punch you."

"It _is_ complicated…"

True to his word, Prompto sprang forward in his chair and punched Noctis in the arm quicker than he could dodge. Noctis flinched and cringed as Prompto went on to berate him for acting like a complete fool.

"Noct, what the _hell_? There is nothing complicated about the cousin of Kat the multi-purpose maid. Or was it aunt? Half-sister? Second cousin, thrice-removed on the father's side?"

Noctis's jaw locked shut to keep the truth from spilling out. Of course he knew – all of them knew – that his flimsy ruse to conceal Lightning's identity was just that: a ruse. They knew the second he returned to the work-out room – with his hasty apologies and clumsy explanations – that he was lying. So, they lied right back to tell him that, "Sure. We'll 'believe' that. For now." Lightning's secrets still weren't his to tell though, even with the addition of a second time-traveler renting one of his rooms.

Guilt tightened around his neck and Prompto saw the noose clear as a head-shot down his rifle's sights. He drew back into his chair, brow furrowed and inquisitive eyes searching, and for an instant, Noctis wondered if this was how Lightning had felt the first night they'd met. He'd never been on the other end of this – of having someone dissecting him for all of his secrets. He was usually the one wielding the scalpel.

"When I said you look like hell, it wasn't an understatement," Prompto said, voice serious. "You're making yourself sick over this, Noct. Whatever 'this' is and everything else on top of it, we can all see it's driving you crazy."

A tiny thrill of panic jolted through him. Just how obvious was it? Could his enemies see him weakening if they met him? Ignis had seen him fracturing first. Lightning had seen him hovering on the edge of breaking. Kat had seen him broken completely and Stella saw him just on the verge of mending, before the wound had time to scar. Now, Prompto could see the scattered remains thrown together into a haphazard mess. A lost puzzle piece trying to find its home in a picture that he could no longer see. How had his heart fallen so far down his sleeve?

Did he really want to hide it anymore? With panic came exhilaration – the idea that his walls were crumbling and he could finally be seen for who he was, not for who he was meant to be. But who he was couldn't win the war. Who he was couldn't challenge the fates set down by the Goddess. Those were a prince's battles. A _king's_ battles. If he wanted to fight them, his walls couldn't fall. But he was _sick of fighting_.

"Noct…"

Prompto was becoming unfocused under the murky waters of his own self-doubt. He wanted to let him help. He wanted to break all the chains on everything he had to keep hidden, and let him try to make sense of it. But he couldn't burden him with that, just like he couldn't with Ignis. Would this alienate him yet another comrade?

"'Kay…" Prompto said, pursing his lips in thought. "You're not gonna tell me anything?"

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"_Can't_."

Prompto brought his hands up in surrender, head bobbing in a placating nod. He considered the patterns of the carpet for a moment before pulling himself up and out of his chair.

"Welp," he said, lips popping on the last consonant. "It might be too complicated for you, but I'm gonna go ahead and try my luck anyway."

Noctis was taken aback, blinking as if he'd just blown smoke into his eyes. He swiveled in his chair to follow Prompto's retreat to the study doors.

"Wait… What?"

"What do you mean 'what?' Just because you _can't_ make a move doesn't mean I won't. How's my hair? I should probably find some mouthwash. My breath stinks, don't it?"

Noctis couldn't process what was happening. He wanted to "make a move" on Lightning? Like… a _romantic_ "move?" On _Lightning_, the literally god-sent time-traveler; the former l'Cie; the woman with the Eidolon; the warrior that could – and probably _would_ – break his arm in half? The same Lightning they'd just established Noctis was wrenched with conflicted feelings about? Was Prompto really so insensitive towards those feelings? This wasn't his friend…

"Wait," Noctis said again, scrambling to his feet.

"Can't wait too long, pal. Don't want her to slip through my fingers. I'll let you know how it goes though, 'kay?"

A whole new shade of panic crashed over Noctis. It was intense and furious. It made his chest feel hollow, with the echo of his shaking heart bouncing in a frenzy off the empty walls. What was this? Jealousy? _Despicable_. He had no right to feel jealous. There was no merit to his panic if it was based on such a deplorable truth. How could he be so _petty_? Why was he acting like this? He thought he was better than this.

"Wish me luck!" Prompto sang, hand on the door-frame, about to swing out into the lobby.

He was more hurt than angry – hurt that he had so little disregard for Noctis's feelings, hurt that he was taking advantage of the grief the situation was causing him… But _you have no right._ It wasn't fair for him to feel betrayed because Prompto was right. He couldn't stand in his way because there was nothing for him to act on. He _wouldn't_ act on greed, on envy, on all those diseases of the soul, tainting his perspective. He couldn't bring those vices into his partnership with Lightning. He could never let such hideous demons known. He was in control, until he wasn't.

"Stop!"

The order ripped past his lips, past the stitches he'd tried to sew into them to keep those horrors at bay. Prompto spun back around, nonchalantly hanging off the door-frame. He seemed unfazed by the blackened tone to his voice.

"Why?"

"Because I… I'm…"

"What? You're sure getting upset over nothing. I mean, it's not like you're in love with her."

Noctis stepped back as if he'd punched him in the face this time. The strangling webs of discordant voices in his head faded out into a daze. Once they ceased, a soft whisper danced around his head: _"…in love with her."_ Prompto's careless and callous demeanor transformed with a single twinkle in his mischievous eyes. He smirked, smug with victory. Hiding in plain sight.

"Noct. Buddy. Pal. Did you really need _me_ to tell you that? Come on."

The light filtering in through the haze confounded Noctis. _Love? _No, that wasn't what it was… It couldn't be… _He wasn't good enough for love_…

"No, you're right," he said, voice small. "I'm not. There's nothing to be upset about."

"Etro's cold, dead ass!" Prompto swore in exasperation. "Don't be an idiot, Noct. And don't assume I'm one either."

"You? Never."

"Nuh uh," Prompto interrupted, wagging a finger in disapproval. "You're not changin' the subject on me now. This right here's an intervention, and I ain't leaving until you admit you have a problem."

Where did he start? When he thought he solved one problem, two more sprouted in its place. It felt like he was looking over miles of gibbering Hydra heads, spitting responsibility after responsibility up at him. How did he address only one? And the only one that had his best interests at heart? There was no time to be concerned with his own self-obsessed desires. They were at _war_. The people came first. His greed – _love?_ – couldn't get in the way.

Prompto scrutinized him for a long moment from across the room. His eyes were uncharacteristically intense. Sharp. Aimed with deadly accuracy at the chink in Noctis's armor. It was terrifying. To be laid bare as untouched snow on the ground, waiting for the footprints to claim it as their own.

"Talk to me, Noct," Prompto urged, pushing himself back into the study. "Just one thing. One sentence. _Anything_."

Noctis's voice clustered in his throat, fighting to burst into the open air. It was getting harder and harder to keep it down. He turned to the chilled fireplace, as if breaking the line of sight would keep Prompto from pulling the trigger. His footsteps approached the instant he saw Noctis's back, and he was leaning next to him against the fireplace a second later – arms crossed, golden brow quirked in a condemning scold. He'd picked that up from Ignis.

"One sentence," he said again, and the bars of the cage in Noctis's throat finally bent.

"I can't afford to be thinking of myself when I should be thinking about saving our kingdom."

"You think you're being selfish by being in love?"

He said that word again and it melted all the evils he'd mistaken it as before. Was that really it? The diamond in the rough; the gold glinting at the bottom of the blackest depths in the sea? A lone light in the night sky. If it was – if he wasn't such a beast of avarice and wanting – it didn't change anything. He looked up at Prompto and his voice was pitiful even to his own ears.

"Aren't I?"

Prompto's expression slackened in surprise – and not the good kind. He'd only been guessing until Noctis's admission. The reality of his assumptions stung much worse once they were spoken. Noctis ducked his face back down to look at the charred mounds of ash in the fireplace. Maybe it wasn't as Prompto said. Maybe there was no sun behind the clouds. Maybe it was just this: ashes with no embers left to snuff out beneath them. Maybe he wanted to think too highly of himself. He just wanted to believe he wasn't capable of greed so, he molded Prompto's words into another lie to convince himself he was good when he wasn't.

_"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so…"_

Prompto pressed a hand to his shoulder and the pressure kept Noctis grounded in the present. His words were soft and he didn't waste a syllable to tell him what he needed to hear.

"If anyone deserves to be a little bit happy, it's you, Noct. You've given up more to this war than the rest of us have. You're allowed to have feelings after all that, and they don't all have to be bad feelings. So, quit psyching yourself out about it. If you're in love, let yourself be in love! I doubt Lightning will object if you do."

Noctis glanced up at him, a confused crease denting his brow. Prompto's shoulders sunk in response, head shaking in disbelief.

"Wow, okay. Lemme put it to you this way: You'd have to be blind or be Noctis Lucis Caelum not to notice that you're the only person here that she hasn't considered decapitating. Kudos!"

"I don't think that translates to reciprocated feelings," Noctis laughed.

"You'll never know if you don't ask."

Prompto patted his shoulder for some extra encouragement and, somehow, Noctis felt lighter. Like a simple pat could knock him right over.

_Love. You're allowed to be in love._

Even if that were true, his heart had the worst possible timing. It decided now, when everything was coming to a great mess of boiling time, to finally open up its shutters to the possibility. Could he really have this? Could he finally want something that couldn't be handed to him? Could he want to fight for something – someone – just for himself? Could he want something that every person in Arcadia wasn't relying on him to gain? Could he _want_ without it being a ravenous hunger to satisfy some dark need in his warped soul?

"You're really crazy about her, eh?" Prompto observed, bumping his shoulder with his own.

"There's a word for it," Noctis said.

In his haste to label what he'd been feeling as wrong, he'd forgotten just how tender, how wistful he felt when he thought of Lightning. He'd forgotten how bright the darkness had seemed, that night on the rooftop, when she told him how to keep going through everything that seemed impossible to conquer. He'd forgotten how it felt to love. He'd forgotten how to see it in his own reflection under the deadened red eyes of the Crystal's power. Being in love with Lightning was inspiring. _Empowering_. Treasuring. And it had no context on the stage of greed.

_You really are an idiot._

A sharp tap on the study window heralded a sudden downpour of the rain which had been racing towards them on the horizon. Even though they'd seen it coming, it felt like it came out of nowhere. Lightning flickered white-hot behind the clouds – black and dense as the night – and thunder beat slow overhead. The rain crashed in fast sheets against the glass and drummed hard against the roof.

"Well," Prompto said, moving nearer to the window to get a better view. "That escalated quickly."

Noctis chuckled, and the unfamiliar noise tightened in his chest. Was he so far-gone in his misery that a simple joy such as laughter could feel almost painful? Almost like fingernails puncturing his heart? Almost too tight… almost suffocating… unbearable…

_Can't breathe…_

_Not his heart_.

Noctis stumbled against the mantel, arm braced against the stone. His hands shook as he reached one to his chest, feeling his heart beat as loud as the thunder. Prompto jumped back to his side, hands outstretched to offer support. Was this the dream again? Had he fallen asleep sometime in the night? Would the skin start to flake from Prompto's body to allow Etro's emergence?

No, his alarm was too palpable; his eyes were too alert with concern. The feeling in Noctis's chest was too tangible. He pulled himself around to look out the doors – past the open foyer, past the beginning of the stairs – and to the entrance of the outdoor hall. The moving light of the rain against the shaped glass beyond, wove through a crack in the doorway. It had been opened. Someone had passed through and gone down to the Crystal. Noctis pushed off of the mantel and staggered out of the study, Prompto hurrying to hover alongside him.

"What's happening?"

"The sanctum's been breached."

* * *

><p>So this was how it felt to hold somebody's life in your hands. She wasn't a stranger to this. She'd killed men before, loading their lives into the bolts of her gun. She knew a little of what it was like, but she'd never had such a physical representation of it, caught before her.<p>

Lightning had expected the Crystal to fight back. She knew it was capable of forcing her to her knees with a single, psychic pulse. She was met with no resistance though. Maybe that made it all the more painful. The first night she'd touched it, it had retaliated in defense of its master. If one was attacked, the other defended. If one was stolen, the other…

_Focus on your ultimate goal…_

She'd been repeating it like a prayer since she slipped from the bedroom; since she paused in the shadows of the stairwell to watch Prompto pass into the study; since she waited for both backs to turn before passing silently through the side door.

_"At least your friends are honest,"_ Prompto had said as she gently placed the door ajar – a possible escape route.

_"Yeah, at least you are,"_ he'd said.

Knives threatened to cut deep – floating swords over her heart – but she said her prayer and whisked down the hall. Eyes on the distant lights of the manor. Was anyone looking back?

Down the myriad labyrinth of steps – follow the phantom of his footsteps.

Pass through relenting doors – too trusting.

Cross the hidden bridge in the water – laughing, splashing, _"sounds like a date…"_

She'd reached up and the Crystal fell into her palm as light as a snowflake. The skin beneath her glove prickled against the hum of its energy, the dirge of Chaos, the reality of a paradox. This was the truth. She had to believe that. Destroying the Crystal would fix everything. Time would re-align and everything that was meant to be real would be restored.

_So what are you waiting for?_

…If this world wasn't real – if it was all just a dream then, she didn't want to wake up.

The rain was a low crackle, like that of a distant wildfire, from above. The Crystal's light beat steady, but she couldn't make her heart's pulse match. _Count_, she reminded herself. _Breathe._ Her fingers curled tightly into the surface. The light shadowed them into silhouettes. Like raising her hands against the brightness of the sun. _Let go._

"What are you doing?"

The rampant charge of her heartbeat stumbled up to crash in her throat. For a moment, no other sound could penetrate the wall made by the sound of his voice. It circled around her head in dizzying circuits. Four words. Five syllables. Question. Ragged breath.

Lightning's gaze flicked up from the captured Crystal to its now empty pedestal, focusing on the vacant space as an anchor into reality. This wasn't a fantasy anymore. She'd lost herself in a fairytale, allowed herself to be engrossed in a fiction. She'd dared to romance the idea of complacency – of forgetting what she strove for. Now, the book was closed. She tore out the final pages and was writing her own ending. The _right_ ending. Because no one else was going to write a tragedy into a fairytale.

"I'm finishing the mission," she said, voice clipped with forced indifference.

She turned and faced him – refused to allow cowardice, even when she was terrified. It wasn't easy to look him in the eyes. It wasn't easy to meet the confused colors, shifting through the irises in barely contained distress. The clear blue diplomat spiking to the killer instinct of red, and muddling into every shade in between from how hard he was trying to keep control. His forehead was beading with sweat, knees shaking, back hunched, hand against his chest. Vaguely, she was aware of Prompto's presence just a step behind him. His arms were tense and braced halfway from his sides towards Noctis. She didn't meet his gaze to evaluate his surprise. The only reaction that mattered to her was _his_.

"I don't understand," he said, breath shaking with some unknown strain. She pretended that she didn't know why.

"I don't expect you to," she said.

"_Make me_."

He drew as much strength as he could into the plea and stepped onto the bridge. The water rippled across to distort her own reflection on the other side.

"What's changed?" he asked.

Lightning swallowed the shards in her throat and commanded her heart to stay its gallop. He'd known something was wrong. She'd seen it in his face the night before. He'd seen it in hers. Open books that no one else could read.

"I know what I have to do now."

"How? Because of your friend, Snow? Did he tell you something?"

"I'm not explaining it to you!"

Her hands clenched into fists and clenched around the Crystal. Noctis's face contorted in pain and halted his careful approach across the bridge. Lightning's stomach dropped and her eyes followed it down to the Crystal. Its light burned in protest until she loosened her grip. She glanced up again at the whisper thin sound of his sigh. She'd misjudged just how deeply the two were connected. It wasn't just a mental link. It was everything – the whole of two entities acting as halves to a one. Spiritually, emotionally, _physically_… She could hurt him in so many ways with the slightest shift of her fingers.

She was leading this dance. She already had him on his knees. She _hated_ it.

"I'm sorry."

It rang hollow and amounted to nothing.

"Then, _stop_. Tell me what's happening. Please, let me help you. I _will_ help you."

He tried so hard for her. He tried so hard to convince her that she could trust him, that his was a safe house; that he wasn't her enemy. That was still true. He wasn't her enemy. Far from it. He was her victim.

"There's nothing to help," she said, her blood running cold, her head clearing the gray into black and white. "I'm done explaining myself. I'm done ignoring the truth. I'm done _making excuses_ to avoid it. This is why I was sent here. This is what I have to do!"

"And I can't let you."

His lips hadn't moved. He hadn't crossed any further across the water. The voice was close and it wasn't his. A safety clicked off, a hair's breadth from her skull. Was this her, coming full circle? Wasn't this how it all started? Fighting hot in the biting cold and spiting death on a battlefield where she didn't belong. Miscounting. Miscalculating. Turning her head to challenge the barrel. Black-red blood splashing onto her cheek.

She wished that Prompto were a soldier. She wished that he were wearing a helmet so that she couldn't see his expression. It was like looking at a stranger. Those wild and roguish baby blues sliced deadly sharp across the gun drawn between them. He stood as still as ice, frost obscuring the churning black depths beneath; motionless and silent.

Lightning was impressed. So impressed that she smiled. _You assume too little about those men._ Noctis didn't befriend incompetent people. _You should have remembered that._ She should have stopped imagining parallels where there were none in her efforts to characterize these people. Happy and _gullible_ as Snow? Only when he wanted you to think so.

"Put it back," Prompto ordered.

Lightning arched a brow, skeptical about how exactly he planned on making her comply. She searched the room beyond his shoulder, curious as to how he managed to sneak up on her. More than one path, then? Magic? _Does it matter?_ He had his gun on her now. He presented an obstacle. They were in the way of her mission. Tactics ordered themselves into succession, waiting to be executed. _Just give the order._

She passed one last look over Noctis and she wasn't sure what she was looking for by doing so. His face remained open, willing to compromise, trusting her to trust him. He searched her gaze just as fervently as she was searching his.

_What are we looking for?_

"Light…"

It nearly broke her. It almost worked. The name she'd given him license to use – the badge that marked him as her comrade – was his last offering. The last door open to her. A reminder that if he could be nothing else to her, he was still her friend. She could cross the threshold if she only matched her name with his own. Say it. The one he'd given you in return for yours. Four letters. One syllable.

_"Light. You can call me…"_

"Noctis…"

Betrayal emptied the blue from his eyes. The Crystal sang in her hand and the air around him began to refract.

"…I'm sorry that this hurts you," she finished, and she meant it.

It couldn't stop her.

A grin spiked across her lips. A smirk built by adrenaline and memory. She aimed it at Prompto.

"Nice gun."

She threw the Crystal high overhead and his icy veneer split in panic. In the instant his eyes left her, she latched onto his wrist and kicked in his knee. He buckled with a cry that echoed throughout the sanctum. As he fell, she twisted his arm and the gun fell from his hand, onto the marble steps. Disarming him took less than a second, just in time for her to reach out and catch the Crystal on its return to the ground. There was the briefest sliver of a pause when it landed safely in her hand and she saw Noctis beyond its view.

His legs stopped shaking. His shoulders straightened, but his head remained low. It made his eyes that much more menacing. Eyes that had gone scarlet. Eyes that looked up from beneath shadow-black tresses. Eyes that should have been filled with rage, but they weren't. They were filled with sorrow. And that was more terrible to her than any amount of his fury.

Prompto retaliated and the real fight commenced. His free arm grabbed for the Crystal and she lurched to keep it from his grasp. He used the motion to roll forward and out of her grip. When he came out of the roll and onto his knees, she remembered where his gun had fallen too late. He'd picked it up and had it aimed. She ducked just as he fired, and a volley of bullets followed her retreat behind the Crystal's pillar.

She made it to cover, but she wouldn't have long to take advantage of it. She pocketed the Crystal into her utility bag, nails grazing Odin's rose and sparking with anticipation. _Not yet._

She drew her blade – _let me have blood; let me dance_ – and she moved, following the wall of the pillar to the opposite side to try and flank Prompto. She could hear his footsteps limping to the side she'd fled around. She slowly came out of her crouch as she drew to the opposing corner. She turned to run and take the shot, but she never made it around. She was on her feet in a second, blade poised for attack as she met Noctis, barring the way to her next shot. Prompto pulled himself from behind the other side and blocked her there too, gun at the ready.

"Give it up," he tried, voice labored from the blows she'd already landed. "I don't know what's going on, but we can work it out. Right, Noct?"

Lightning's eyes narrowed to his and she could read nothing within them. His shield was up, a sword was in hand, and they both knew that whatever negotiation Prompto offered, she wouldn't accept. In her periphery, she saw Prompto's face change from hopeful to defeated as Noctis's silence negated his attempt to broker peace.

It was her move now and Noctis's stare was intent upon her. Prompto might as well not have been there. No escape left nor right. There was a wall and water at her back, and the pillar at her front. The open cavity where the Crystal had been suspended, mouthed a possibility to her. It was far big enough for a human to fit through. The bridge was directly beyond it and after that, a long sprint to the door. Lock them in and use that time to escape the labyrinth. Find the glass hallway, bust back into the lobby, and through the double doors, into the snow. It was her only option.

Noctis watched her. Prompto shifted towards her. Was she fast enough?

Noctis's eyes slanted just before she bolted forward. A gunshot whisked past behind her and she heard it tink off of glass, hitting the floor. Prompto swore and she was already vaulting herself through the pedestal with one swift movement. A step and she was to the other side, centering herself with the door and preparing to trust her footing to the water.

The air changed and, suddenly, he was there on the step just before the bridge. She gripped her blade and didn't stop moving. He raised his sword and stood his ground. There was a flash in the gloomy light and steel greeted steel with a roar.

Blue fire glared into bloodied ice. Fearsome reflections countered in the sparking blades. _This_ is what needs to happen.

_This is you and me._

They broke only to meet again. She crossed from below; he crossed from above. Flashing steel. Sparking edges. Cutting hard into each other. Neither yielding.

She pushed off and kicked for his center. He feinted into a side-step and rounded behind her. She recovered, spun, and caught his arm as he tried to knock her out with an elbow to the back of her neck. Skin electrified when it found skin. Their swords switched into the next angle. She released him just as he tried to push down, using his weight against her. She turned the tables by letting him go and his own force began to topple him. His stance kept him upright though, and he used the motion of falling to turn his back to her, only to strike an elbow backwards into her abdomen.

She bounced back onto her heels just in time to dodge the hit, and a splash of water warned her that she was on the bridge. He'd maneuvered her onto unstable ground, using the environment against her. He knew exactly where to step. She only had a vague idea. Her glare pierced through his as he turned back to face her. Next round.

Parry after parry, dodge after dodge, and neither of them knew how long they'd been dancing. The water raced rampant with the ripples from her steps. The marble clicked under the red soles of his boots. The clanging of swords were deafening in the echoes of the cavern. Blades glinting like lightning in the storm of their attacks. Sparks twinkling like stars in the night in their deadlocks. Neither of them were making any progress, stuck in the same position. It was a waste of time and they both knew it. Even so, they couldn't stop. She had all of time to fight for. He had an entire world.

She had to get some distance. The exit was just a quick run behind her, but she'd never get there if she had to outrun his teleportation magic. She had to incapacitate him somehow. She had to divert his focus, distract him, take a page out of his book and use the environment against him. Their blades locked yet again and a flicker of movement by the Crystal's pillar reminded her that Noctis had a weakness. It was a dirty move – a cruel one – but he wasn't giving her a choice.

Noctis would do anything to protect his friends, and Prompto had become an easy target. He was lingering on stand-by, watching them trade blows with his gun half-raised, ready to assist in the event Noctis showed signs of weakening. He was so enrapt with keeping up with their fight that he'd never see her shot coming. She didn't want to kill him, but if she trusted Noctis's protective instinct, he wouldn't let that happen if she tried. And therein lay her chance to escape.

She met his eyes over their crossed blades. His breath was hot against her face, a nearness she'd craved, but never like this. The scent of him filled her head and it was maddening: a heady gasp of pine, the musky pant of sandalwood; subtlety turned to intensity amidst the fire of battle. How long ago had it been since she was close enough to be enamored by the smell of him? Had it been since she'd burrowed into the dark warmth of his jacket in the quiet nighttime of the city? Since she'd taken his hand for the first time to keep herself from crumbling to dust?

She wanted to go back to that bench. To the rooftop. To anywhere before this moment, just to sit with him. Talk with him about nothing or everything. She didn't care. She just _didn't want this_.

He must have seen the regret pepper through her eyes because his gaze faltered and the tension of his blade against hers lessened just a fraction. It was enough. She released a hand from the hilt of her gunblade and wrapped it around his. She pushed his grip down so his blade forced hers down and his balance was thrown forward against her. Her blade slid from beneath his in a hiss and folded back. She aimed it over his shoulder and Prompto was a deer in headlights.

Just as her finger brushed the trigger, Noctis caught on. In a split second, his hand was pushing her arm out to disrupt the shot. The bullet hit nothing and she had the moment of falling to pull in a breath before she hit water.

Her ears suctioned in the muteness of being under water, and the crisp echoes of the sanctum were drawn out in a vacuum. Inky blackness surrounded her on all sides. The only light was the faint luminance over the surface, until the crimson glow of his eyes replaced it. He was almost invisible in the darkness with his black clothes and shadowy tendrils of hair. He floated just an arm's length in front of her, and in the silence – in this timeless pocket of stasis – his eyes changed. The caustic sorrow of the Crystal's powers faded back into his own sad temperance. His sword dissipated, a veil of crystal dust, rising around them, catching the dim light from overhead.

She didn't think her heart could ache any more than it already was, but this surrender cracked it in two. It was so desperate. Utter submission. He looked _so tired_. She didn't know what to do anymore. Could she just let herself drown here? Could she please just drown with him into this stillness, this darkness? She was desperate, too, and he saw it, just like he saw everything. His eyes were so soft, so tender, so tempting to just fall into them.

He reached for her.

_This_ was the last offering. _This_ was them coming full circle. The last open door. Reach out and take it just like that night. Let the strings snap and _fall into him_.

_He'll catch you._

He waited. He waited with that infinite patience, that gentle simplicity.

He begged with no words, no sound. On his knees again.

Her eyes traveled the space between his hand and his eyes. _It could be so easy if you just let it._ But if it were easy, it would be giving up. It would be ignoring the truth. It would be an excuse. And if she had to lie to herself in order to love him, then it wasn't worth it.

Lightning dragged a hand through the water and reached into her utility bag. Noctis's eyes widened in horror when the crystal she withdrew wasn't his own. He kicked himself back through the water just as she did to give herself distance. Odin floated in the darkness and she waited for Noctis to be clear before firing a bolt through the water.

There was an explosion of white and red, and a wall of water rushed towards her. She could make no sense of her position nor see where she could put herself to safety. She was lost in free-fall until the steady arms of her Eidolon found her and pulled her out. A rush of air pushed down into her lungs as Odin ascended up, and cut through the surface of the water. She coughed and gasped against his emerald plating until she regained a sense of placement. She patted Odin's chest and he set her down.

Her feet found soaked marble, barricading high waves of water from consuming it entirely. Her gunblade had remained in hand, her palm cutting into the steel so hard she thought it might bleed. Prompto was pulling himself to his feet against the main pillar, sputtering back to his senses after being crushed by one of the waves. Once he was on his feet, he moved immediately to the edge of the marble steps and screamed into the writhing waves.

"Noctis!"

He was answered with only the rough whispering of the artificial tide. Cold dread seeped with the water over Lightning's skin. Prompto paced the edge of the platform, eyes manic as they searched the blinding black depths. He called again, but was still answered with silence. Lightning saw his muscles coil, about to dive into the water to find him when a nearby gasp halted his plan. Noctis re-emerged against the bridge, floundering for a grip to keep himself afloat. Prompto bolted to his aid, the threat Lightning and her Eidolon still posed all but forgotten.

_Loyal to a fault._ If only it hadn't taken her betrayal for her to spot what was decent in the man. He pulled Noctis onto solid ground, coaxing him into expelling the water in his lungs, but Noctis's eyes were already fixed on her. There was nothing left within them but endless anguish, and her regrets could never soothe that.

"Odin!" she barked to keep herself from stopping.

He turned to her and she swung her gunblade to indicate the nearest wall.

"Cut us a path!"

The Eidolon faithfully obliged. Lightning ducked behind his massive shield as the jagged teeth of his blade collided with the stone. The whole house rumbled as brick and rock collapsed from the wall. The impact made the ceiling shake and Noctis quickly pinned Prompto to the floor and dove over to cover him as rubble started crashing into the water around them.

Dust and stone blasted out into open air, and the opening Odin carved sent the water of the sanctum out in a rush. Rain and snow bellowed through the hole, trading blows with the racing of the water. It was a clear path to deep woodlands on the other side. Lightning didn't know where it would take her, just that it was her only shelter and that she was grateful they weren't as far underground as she thought.

"Let's go!"

She shouted the order to Odin and started to run. He followed in sync, the parts of his anatomy instantly changing to settle into his mobile form. Hoof-beats clattered against the marble just as her boots left it to leap into his saddle. Odin's whinnying was ethereal beneath the thunder that trumpeted above them. Lightning didn't look back as Odin galloped past the wall and into open land.

They ran into the snow, into the rain, into the storm that she had created.

* * *

><p>Noctis left a cautious hand on Prompto's back as he slowly rose to assess the damage. The water drained outside and was vanishing, inch by inch, from beneath their feet. The falling stone had ceased to a few sprinkles of dust. The rain blew cold into the sanctum and it was empty. She was gone.<p>

Prompto clamored to his knees, trembling from the shock now that it had a moment to register. He looked frantically up at Noctis for a sense of normalcy. For rationality.

"What _the hell_ is going on?"

His voice was joined identically by another. Snow was in the open door to the sanctum, half-dressed and sleep-mussed. He had one arm out in a cautionary gesture and Katrina was shivering behind it. She stared wild-eyed at the state of the sanctum, lips in a white line. Prompto scurried to his feet, hand going to his holstered gun.

"Who _the hell_ is that?"

"Where's Lightning?"

Prompto braced his hand around the grip of his gun when Snow's question revealed his allegiance. He only hesitated to draw because Katrina was so close to him. He turned a glance to Noctis, looking for permission to shoot, but Noctis wasn't looking at any of them. His gaze was set far in the distance, on the treeline framed by the hole in the wall.

"Noct…"

"Answer me!"

Snow stepped forward, worry and suspicion clashing across his face. Prompto tensed, pressed like a stance bracing for recoil. He wasn't put at ease when Noctis finally acknowledged Snow's presence. The chill of indifference in his dark-red eyes froze all three of them to their spots. Snow's demands died on his lips under the war-bound stare. He could say nothing against it. With Snow effectively stupefied into silence, Noctis turned back to the opening and walked to it.

"Wait!" Prompto protested. "You're not going after her!"

"Stay here."

"If you think you're going – "

"_Stay here!_"

Noctis rounded on Prompto and his glare had the same effect it had on Snow. Prompto was stunned, having never heard anything louder than a call to the next room from his soft-spoken friend. He feared what that meant. He couldn't discern any intentions out of Noctis.

The prince climbed through the wall, boots sinking into the slop of ice and water. Odin's hoof-prints were deep in the muck, filling with rainwater all the way to the forest. The rain pounded against him, tried to beat him down, but he stood against it. He marched across the snow and followed her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** ...Did you enjoy it while it lasted? I told you to enjoy it while it lasted.

Alternate titles for this chapter: "Throwback Thursday" because, dayum, it was just quote after quote up in here! Or "That Time Prompto Accidentally Broke the Fourth Wall." _Or_ "Your Feels Are Mine Now Mwuahahaha!"

Guys. _Guys_. Next chapter. The thing. The thing is happening. The "Big Cheese." It's happening, oooh myyy goood, I am so excited, you don't even know! This is the moment! This is the thing I've been waiting for, that you've been waiting for! This is that thing I've been waiting to write since I started this crazy thing however many years ago (cringes). It's gonna happen. And I want it to be perfect so, bear with me! I want to take my time with it, but at the same time, I can't wait to finish it so, who knows when the next update will happen. Just get hyped for it! I'm getting giddy just thinking about it!

As always, _thank you_ everybody for your constant support and enthusiasm for this story! It was a long time coming, but we've reached the climax and now, it's just a long roller-coaster of insanity and angst down to the end (which is not any time soon, by the way). Hold your tacos! It's gonna be a bumpy ride :P


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